He stands at the crosswalk Impatience leaking from his nail beds As his adjacent light glows a harsh crimson And the world takes an inconvenient forty five seconds to pause.
He takes his iPhone from his jacket pockets Equipped with their own fireplace And begins his minute of promiscuity With perverse and pretentious products, Stealing his stare from empty space Outside his feet.
The woman picking through garbage Is a sad museum exhibition on the Holocaust Presented to an audience who quote the definition of “genocide” From the monotone letters In their tenth grade history books.
Charity echoes like the buzz of mosquitos laying eggs in his ears, His eyes squint as he winces from October cold. Rustling clangs behind him and he pointedly looks away, turning his collar up Seemingly to the wind.
He ignores ***** open palms, His superpowers seeing through skin To poppy filled veins Belonging to a weaponized mind, But little does he know They’ve turned his silence into a bomb And broke his fingers to submission to Keystrokes and card swipes.
The woman claims her treasure, Wipes the grime off the rim of the used paper cup. He puts his headphones in his ears and Loosens the screws in his face, Letting his mouth fall slack and void. The light turns green.