I am My Own Verse
I took the midnight bus
and rode around until the morning.
I drew stars in the dew
that settled on the windows
in that dilapidated solitude.
I
became
Aware.
Flying down the freeway
composing verse,
tap-tapping my fingers
makes a sound akin to the patter
of bugs on the windshield.
Those insects, still flying -
Do they even know they are dead?
Am I?
No line breaks. The iron iodine taste of water, missing
one person or two or three. It has only been
a
few
hours.
Or months.
Gagging on the lack of
poetry
in real life.
I may improve.
and rode around until the morning.
I drew stars in the dew
that settled on the windows
in that dilapidated solitude.
I
became
Aware.
Flying down the freeway
composing verse,
tap-tapping my fingers
makes a sound akin to the patter
of bugs on the windshield.
Those insects, still flying -
Do they even know they are dead?
Am I?
No line breaks. The iron iodine taste of water, missing
one person or two or three. It has only been
a
few
hours.
Or months.
Gagging on the lack of
poetry
in real life.
I may improve.