Unreality. by Ann Christine Tabaka

Walking on a street filled with

lonely people looking downward.

No smiles to be found.

Store window displays staring

back with vacant eyes, like so

many lost souls looking

for a place to belong.

Days racing by like a speeding

train, only stopping long enough

to discharge passengers. Each hour

barely perceptible as it flies by.

Wine drenched memories. Fingernails

digging into flesh. Hair pulled out in

handfuls.  The hot breath of doubt

breathing down my neck.

A smile across the face of fear.  

At ninety-five miles an hour racing

towards the sun, no one saw it coming,

as the sky opened up to swallow

those left behind.

Unreality has become real, walking

on a street filled with lonely people looking

downward. No smiles to be found.

Ann Christine Tabaka has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in Poetry, has been internationally published, and won poetry awards from publications. She lives in Delaware, USA.  She loves gardening and cooking.  Chris lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are: Ariel Chart, Page & Spine, West Texas Literary Review, Oddball Magazine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review, Foliate Oak Review, Better Than Starbucks!, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Scryptic Magazine, Ann Arbor Review, The McKinley Review.