I
could do without a scrub
sitting
on my giant square swing
that
mediates between yes and no
and
honesty abates
back
to where the mirror on your chest
reflects
the suggested desire
the
fraudulent hums to the contrary
that
raised finger isn’t really an impediment
it is
really easily avoided
walked
around
you
know that reaction
anyone
gets when they’re labeled
then
don’t know its accuracy
an
inaccuracy like a duck in the flying v
that
trails off one end with a score of followers
and
turns it into an n
that
feeling the duck has probably shared
the
screaming children yelling out the bus
with
hair at square angles
defying
the breeze and their bus drivers shouts
the
sound of it as it hits you
your
ears bite into it
processing,
sorting, put through linguistic paces
