The problem with people-watching
in the middling suburbs outside Pittsburgh,
is everyone looks like they’re related,
a little too similar, bad photocopies
of the same dull morality.
The girls have similar haircuts
and the boys wear similar shorts.
The men and women,
they cannot stomach the ‘F’ word,
but they adore efficient order
enforced through totalitarian violence.
Chemical air fresheners are pumped
through department store ventilation systems.
Perhaps the compound is designed
to induce complacency for the status quo
and suppress everyone's style
or sense of fashion.

losing nothing
light's dispersion
through cumuli

be wary always
of my ever waiting
romantic depression

it crouches always
in the spaces between
the walls of my study
observing my progress
with a welling of loss

a grazing of substance ;
I practice a new vulnerability

I sit here eating a bagel.
Wondering how many calories are in cream cheese.
My eyes are 360 on this pedestal surrounded by books and humanity.
I see a man pick up a bible
He seems lost in his contemplating
Does he believe?
Will he believe?
It doesn't matter to me.
I'm happy with this bagel.
I'm satisfied by simplicity.

This cloudy morn of murk,
Where on my tongue I taste dirt,
I should wallow in grey plumes, sir,
But I glide by this dank flirt,

On lady nature lay cobbled stone,
Without shoes we’d feel at home,
But this spring one looks to be known,
In diamond vestments is how we ‘grow’,

As my glide comes to a stop,
And I lay rest in this earthy shop,
Sipping elixirs of generations crops,
I breath I taste tip top,

Chakra advocate with stature,
I see you too truth catcher,
Without shoes, tongue out plan hatcher,
The dew fills your pallet, oh catch her.

Frequently,
I watch people
who try
consciously
or
unconsciously
to become
copies
of others.

They pursue
the same goals,
settle in
the same
lifestyle,
and
measure themselves
with the same ruler,
never realizing
they are so much more
than the cog
they behave like.

Black coat and silver eyes,
what dances within,
you know but keep quiet,
your coat dances on wind.

Paws so silent,
no tracks left behind,
are you a ghost,
why must you hide?

The answer became clear,
upon the twilight,
you raised your head,
pulled back.

Releasing your jaw,
shoulders relaxed,
you let out a cry,
no reply came or followed.

The sound was mournful,
could it be that,
you are alone here,
in this world we call home?

Crackling twigs underfoot,
burrs caught in your coat,
fire and pain in your eyes,
what do you hide?

You want to fit in,
you seek only companionship,
but always you leave,
never have you stayed.

In the dead of night,
once again,
I hear you cry.