Arts + Scene » Poetry

Frank Capra



Where've ya been Frank?
Your tales no longer seen.
The loyal neighbor,
the unknown friends,
the laughter at the store.
There's none of that now.
Noses, to phones.
Blind, leading blind.
There's no talking in line.
Missing you, Frank.
I see with new eyes.
To some it was exactly that,
a paradise in disguise.
Can we ever go back?
Learn to love again?
Reject our programming?
Rediscover our friends?
You tell me, Frank.
Whenever we meet again.

Richard Parish


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