"People Are..."

a Howl in the night, my brother--
as we ascend the moonlit road
with truth on our minds.
Why can't we?

We are onlookers in a room
full of stillborn fingers
glowing in the shadow of the night.

useless complaints
seem like cold handshakes,
unecessary toasts,
weeping over female tears.

(strange things put to use)
and we look at each other
as if