©Shers Gallagher 2014
Who lives in places of squalor once made popular by Bohemians and beat poets?
Now I only think of druggies and prostitutes, as well as Sherlock Holmes.
The character of Holmes liked living in the midst of his personal hobby,
solving crimes like chess games:
no passion just strategy and reason.
Criminals are the black knaves and sometimes bishops, I think.
The royals end the game.
The victims, too many victims,
are always dispensable game pieces.
I thought of this, not of Sherlock and dark horses,
but of pawns
as I flew over the sprawling yet uniformed houses
that line up in rows and cul-de-sac formations.
There are too many to count and too many to care
to be individual anymore.
Yet sometimes there is hope,
just a little hope among the railings and rafters.