after dinner.

middle-aged dragonflies
zooming on the grass-tipped lane
having no answer to their questions
of where and why
flying on the third-world rot
they lose their breath
and bump into each other's wings

i walked among them
and lost all meaning
no direction from the air
i stood while others stared

i remembered why i stopped
and told myself i know nothing of you
i know nothing you don't know
i know nothing of middle-aged dragonflies.