Pioneers hang with garlands of dust
On walls full of cavities and cracks.
Beneath their yellow or moth-eaten eyes
Talks full of DAs or travel plans flutter
And spiral into stories of in-laws or sales
Sprinkled with ever-growing prices of fish
Or moans over spouses and kids.
In between these, with stiffening unease
Students or classes will creep.
The pioneers stare with spiders in eyes
And shiver in the unwelcome breeze.