I'll mostly sit on walls dangling my feet
To tease the swarming trappers
Who nip the dead skin that falls from my soles
Like feeding fish alone in the tank
Who are submitted to the distorted faces
Of their peers amidst
The crashing waves of the surface world
Above where God and his friends are
Smoking cigarettes and listening
To the sounds of Getz
The Golden Boy
While ignoring me until they meet
The one who sits on walls
Dangling his feet.