Often I sit cross legged And move my ****** issues As best I can into my brain Where I can think about them And then not think about them By using some minor will To hold them back Right now in fact, I'm sitting Cross legged in the backseat Of a car with a busted tail light Mary jane in the glove box Backseat also full of groceries So I adjust frequently, scowl As I eat food Licking my fingers after I Eat octopus flavored snacks I reach into the bag again Noticing denim fibers stuck Like cat hair on my hands from When I wiped them on my pants And that's kinda gross So I stop My back starts hurting