(20 minute poetry)


Getting off on it
can't get a seat,
but want to sit
still
getting off on it.

Monday bites me almost casually
the future's out there,
I can see me
getting off on it.


Idiosyncrasy
suits me.


But I wear black jeans
black coat
white whiskers,
old goat?

The sun is mellow in this morning air
melting into shadows and over yonder, there
I find a seat and sit,
getting off on it.

Never far from being, but far enough from other beings to like being on my own
and I'm at home which is the state of man
getting off on it
the best way
the only way
I can.