tires

don't tread on me again
the road goes on and on
and on this or that day
i swerve and sway and i
try to stay away then i

tread carefully
approach w/caution
tip-toe
the tulips
wither from
lack of water

dart
barb
stick
in the
gut - yr
a jerk, a
punk, a
teen a
gain i
feel i
cannot
rememb
er the
moment
missed

the bus-stop
in the morning
the early morn
mid-city
working class
neighborhood
scene.

am i that same
boy waiting on
the bus or am i
on the bus as in
how kesey meant it?

wondering
wandering
meandering
reading
feeding
seeing
being
sing
ing
-racious
delicious
phrases that
don't mean much
except for maybe
the poet himself,
a scratchpad if
you will or
won't sleep.

eyes close,
eventually.

day dawns a
-gain w/out
emailing or
maybe perha
-ps missing

word games to
pass the time
and try to fi
-lter the fee
-ling - cross
-words within
a poem within