Dragons

I am
the last bastion
in a sea of concrete,
a see of storms
in the heat.

Before me,
my twin lies raped,
torn asunder by steel,
a place to play games.

Between us there is water.
That is good; it has
long
been unseen here.
But it does not flow anymore.

That constant noise that resembles flow
is not happy.

Above,
steel dragons growl
in passing,
a never-ending series of them
that land nearby but never say hi
like they used to.

Why?
Are they depressed at being enchained
or at seeing the glass shards and paint
that deface me?

Distant kin watch from the dust-haze,
but the nearest are harder to see
through the smog,
those brown clouds
that eat away at reality.

and still another dragon comes.
Maybe this one will say hi...