Timothy Edmond # 27

It said it may have

something to do with birds

just before night fall

congregating to chatter

or the moment you

just don’t step into

the roadway when a

bus comes whizzing by

the absence of

anything to say

to an idiot

the depression

you feel

when everyone

around you

are happy

the feeling of

not caring

when everyone

is telling you

this is very important

when you are told

infinity is not a number

the surprise banality

of nudity

sunburn up your nose

the waiter who

takes the time

to correct your

pronunciation

stuck on the loo

without toilet paper

eating a very hot pie outside

a petrol station very drunk

at 1.30 in the morning

the sound of a raven

trying to break a stone

that it thinks is an egg

on a tin roof

the itch between

your front and back

the inability to see

the world except through

the eyes of your friends

seeing you see it

the word for a person that

pulls down beautiful houses

and builds ugly ones in their place

the word for going to a

shop you only went

to last week

and finding it has

been shut for

years

the masking of sentimental

language with umbrellas

the loneliness and sheer

tedium of having to

for the most part exist

in the slither world

and poverty of

shared experience

the word for everything else

an ex policeman’s

absence of chin

the tacit acceptance

that you may

die as a

consequence of

your governments

actions and or policies

the realization that you are

better than everyone else