As the Drum Beats

Desert street nestled between dry clay houses and hovels,
Accompanied by men who trade, steal, and grovel.
A malnourished man pounds a drum, dirt caked abreast,
Remembering death if he takes a rest.

As the drum beats,
The noise travels far through the streets
To where a man whips his unattentive llama,
Ejecting dust clouds to strangle the drama,
And he whips to the beat of the drum.

As the drum beats,
The sound echoes far, down narrow streets,
To a stall, where people shout prices at the butcher as he
Pounds the meat into the table with all the strength he can be,
And he pounds to the beat of the drum.

And the drum beats — on it beats,
The blasts of noise push far through the streets,
To where a man stands sobbing, rope 'round his throat,
He swears, he did not steal that goat!
And he sobs to the beat of the drum.

And the drum beats ever stronger.
And the shadows are growing longer.
The people in the desert streets walk in step
Amidst the chaos.