• Invisible Man

    Another day,
    Here on the Bus stops bench,
    Cadging for your loose change,
    But you Downtown folks
    Are so Excursive to my presence.

    You Forge past the needy and
    Gesture towards the
    Heaped up bus where
    Idealism lacks
    Justification.

    I hear Kibitzers
    Laconic to me,
    About my Misfortune,
    Nagging on how I should make something of myself.

    Obedience doesn’t really fit my
    Profile all too well,
    Never Quite did.

    You can call me a Ragamuffin all you want,
    But you’ll never Sabotage
    My Tactics of being
    An Urbanite.

    I am the Vagrant bound to the Bus Stop’s bench,
    Waving my
    Xanthoma infested hands towards you,
    Yearning for the day to
    Zeal down the street.