The Wasteland

They came in low over the cratered hills
And released their munitions
Flew screaming past in a glimpse
Of light, sun, and metal

Hours later, I picked my way through the ruins
Of this more contemporary wasteland

There was no flourish here
There was no linguistic self importance
Masking impotence

There were simply steps
And people checking into motels for sex
And children being ushered into empty rooms

In the Wasteland