(no subject)
Bustop metaphor for life
The threatening clouds have spilled
and darkness has enclosed its boundaries
leaving me idle on a bench
patient - not waiting for the bus.
I play with time
and the sanctioned graffiti that whispers
‘you want me’...‘you need me’
And my thoughts jump to credit cards bills,
Life...and the thoughtlessness of pigeons
as their splattered cries of freedom
scream resistance, yelling,
‘we ll crap wherever we like’
I sit cocooned in the street light’s glow,
fused into the molten abstract of winter’s night
and the grumbling of the groaners
until a silent ambulance rushes by,
its lights quietly screaming
So I push my glasses a little further up my nose
and suddenly everything is clear.