A lot of people died, almost unnoticed
except that for every death a balloon
with a smiling face painted on it
was humng from a window so that
the town would not seem so empty.
The balloons were crowded together and
not as unlike people as you might think – as
days passed the balloons lost their puff
and began to wrinkle up, the painted faces
shriveled and set into firm expressions,
they bent closer to the ground and
eventually lost their strings.
They were swept away, usually to the harbor
where fish play idly with their limp remains.