Hipsters

So many
        so lonely

perched in public
    earbuds in

dressed to the tens

      paperback
  in the right hand
cigarette 

    in the other
silently
     begging

        to be noticed

but not realized

     by another person

just as perfectly
     flawed

and brilliantly
     refined.

My Mind

Irony of ironies
    my one-track mind
  on an infinite
        meandering  

   m o n o r a i l

with its vigorously
     variable
  interest rate
stopping often
to smell one rose
        or lilly
                 or dandelion
    at a time
it can't see the forest
     for one tree
  or the tree
      for the wind
  or the wind
      for the cold
  or the cold
      for my coat
  but longs deeply
   to understand
                   them all
   thinking

      deeper

       than 
 
       roots
 
blessed contemplative
             cursed curious
. . . . . or do I have that backwards?

  want a taste?
    go to a circus
  in a neck brace
and blinders.