They wander the streets
a dirty maze
numbing the question
how did I get here
and as I drive by them
huddled under awnings
yelling at the sky
I wonder why it’s my stomach that hurts
not my heart
I am reminded of the lobsters at the market
when I was a kid
how I used to watch them
climbing over each other
looking for ways to escape
the glass walls
those black eyes
the angry stare
of knowing
your fate.