WELL GO ON, LINK ME
UP TO SOMETHING
I might sit here. I might not.
There's this downtown struggle
going on in my head. Am I going?
Or should I just stay? I need the
lights and the action again, the
pose and the poise alike. No
Popsickle crowd like this dumb
town will do. I turn right at the
underpass, right into a fish? The
train finally does arrive, but not until
after some fat-assed black girl keeps
yapping on her phone and two dudes
keep speaking some Swahili in my
face. God get me out of here. I smell
something like grease on every portal
I touch, and this train reeks of something
I can't even think about.
No comments:
Post a Comment