James Walton #50 Timothy Leary drops by

bus

shelters gather     a stampede through western towns

suburbs relinquish dogma     take away food departs

the empty waiting room     sighs

a friend once laughed     where’s the vinegar

they queue into the street     impatient the bank teller

thinks     of love in the morning     an early retirement

where a beach can smile     at this effrontery

sweating     a grasshopper in an old running shoe

hasn’t time      for the hand held clicker

a hat without a brim     is mistaken confidence

lapses