Sunday, July 17, 2011

Sunday

And so I
mope down
Smith Street
under bright light.
People in casual slacks
head to the beach.
One guy is smoking a pipe
like he's a professor
in a movie about academics
living in Brooklyn.
And there is some dude
writing the word "coffee" in chalk
on a board out in front
of a coffee shop.
In an effort to seem more original
and complex I work on Sundays
which makes me angelic
and precise.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great poem!

2:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

LOve

3:13 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

uh huh

5:29 PM  

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