(written 08/09)
Excuse Me, I Don't Think I Belong Here
Here I am sitting on a benchon a walk in the sun
watching empty people
needlessly heedlessly
passing through here to there
in noisome foulness
of metal in motion
belching blue burps
of petroleum smoke
while dandelion fluffs
float effortlessly
on fresh breezes
down from on high.
Were I, could I, may I
find a bench on a walk
in the sun
where dandelion fluffs
float down
from here to there.
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