by Cheryl L. Daytec

I am
without my name…
alone with my shadow
in a crowd of people
also nameless to me

unlike their cameras-
Nikon, Sony, Olympus, Canon-
capturing the charm
of a city, its neoteric dash
merging gracefully

with its antediluvian air:
Baroque palaces and a diner
that gyrates with graceful speed
like the small hand of a clock,
a Gothic castle perched on a hill

overlooking the serene Danube
crossed by a new bridge
with an edifice contrived earlier
than its time
No one perhaps missed Cumil

who mischievously bobbed up
through a manhole cover
after a day’s backbreaking labor
in the underground sewer
his nostrils escaping the noxious blend

of the city’s motley stinks
We all must have met Naci
taking his hat off to everyone
How sagacious of him to elude
the contretemps of the world

by renouncing
what we all struggle to keep:
the mind
And The Paparazzi peeping through
a camera; he has never been

a scandalmonger nor tattler
On the contrary, he is routinely,
mercilessly harassed, his image
stolen by lenses of curious strangers
The city is a riot of cynosures

People talk all at once
Like the chirping of birds,
the sounds mean nothing to me
But the shared gasps of awe
are eloquent speech

Souls connect
breathing in the same magnificence
that tomorrow shall be shared memories
of people who will never know
each other’s names.