i watched you as you stumbled down the street
with your blue bandana and red Reds cap tilted
to the side; k. dot would be proud,
but you wouldn’t survive in a real city.
so i jump in my car; turn the key a few times,
pump the gas, and it finally starts;
i drive by you slowly, and throw out gang
signs with my pale pink skinny fingers
(and since i don’t know any gang signs
and you obviously aren’t a gangster,
we look like two deaf people having
an inarticulate Donald Trump argument,
as if there is such a thing as an articulate
Donald Trump argument…whatever).
after our brief encounter, i u-turn
back to the house feeling that i accomplished
something today and proceed to drink my cheap
bourbon as my reward; i love fulfilling daily goals.