Lines form and people follow the flow
separating into groups on the sidewalk.
Mannered in institution,
he, she, they.
Blur into one moving mass of color.
Then one yellow dot runs from formation,
chased by its larger who returns it to
the spot in symmetry.
Comformity, assimilation, and boundaries.
We file ourselves in order from the time our feet
bare weight, until our weight we cannot bare.
Then we seal our deaths in set form, row upon row,
marking our existence in uniformity.
sherrystruthtofiction 