Life is elsewhere
in deserted strip malls,
discarded cups,
dingy pool halls
illumined with alarming neon lights.
In drag races,
abandoned lots,
harsh grass forcing
its way through cracks.
Stray cats,
cigarette ash.
In black coffee,
wine stains,
a torn t-shirt.
Snapped washing lines,
sign of the dystopian times.
The factory on the river
with staring eyes,
smashed glass,
shattered remains long gone
in black, stagnant water.
Locked up houses,
silent, sad streets
with lost property cars
& streetlights long burnt out.
Life is buried beneath
cold cellar boards
& waves drifting onto the shore.
Life is for those other people,
stretching out, but untouchable.
Life is the near future
never quite reached,
just dreamed
dozing on rattling trains,
sitting upright,
zipped mouth agape.
In a drop of slow saliva
or sweat
evaporating off
somewhere unknown
& returning.
Life is envy, uncertainty,
endless waiting.
Life is always elsewhere
* Title stolen from the Milan Kundera novel