Duane Vorhees writes

THE COLLARED MAN PONDERS HIS FATE

fisheye pedestrians processed like meat
butchered by shadows crossing the streets
and the collared man fondles his date
groping nights for some familiar shape.
why not invite five-finger mary
to play quick hands of sexual solitaire?
waiting for traffic lights to change in Hell
here on Tiltworld, in Universe Pinball,
who is there tonight to tilt at windmills?
president said that shadows don’t lie
but who can see his shadow at night?
and the collared man watches  his weight.
once  who made fire was fried at the stake
and wheelmaker stretched on the rack
and sail weavers made to walk the plank.
our world’s darkness, a new kind of flash
electrified with tasteless touchless gas
that weighs down like a new kind of  mass,
and the silence a new form of scream
smothering the nights once thick with dreams.
the collared man’s sewed up at the seams.
he who windowed the world exiled the wind.
                    skyscraper maker erased our sky.
but icon crossing signs sigh WALK
                                  WITH LIGHT 
                                             WALK
                                  WITH LIGHT