by Lizo Mkhize
The men sweep the streets at midnight
One man looks up at the stars
They tell him to shut up
But the stars have no guts
They do not know of the loneliness
That comes with not finding the one
Or what it takes
To work a broom
For survival
The men sweep the streets
As she walks by
He talks to her
Her face looks as if the sun has grown tired
Of trying
And she knows it
She walks away from
A sweeping
Disappointment
The men sweep
Together
They are alone