In the caves, long shadows of dancing
girls distort and disappear, the echoes
of barkers overlap, every alcove serves
booze and food as we pass one another
staring onward, believing we follow
a thread through the maze. Outside,
on the surface, it sometimes storms—
we watch dismayed and thankful.
There are reasons we bunch together,
build forts and send out patrols
for fears we cannot face or discuss—
always the enemy, we live in caves.
drycrikjournal 