I walk, head in a daze,
unknowingly brushing a passerby.
He turns and steps in my way,
blocking the path, staring at
me with harsh, unblinking eyes.
'What's up wit dat. You come
bumble'n -n- stumble'n into my
hood without my permission.
And pemission costs.'
Holding his hand out as if
he was empowered to collect
the tax by some obscure
political agency.
'What gives you the right to
block my way and demand pittance
for using this walk? '
'Cause I'm the shit.'
'What else would come from an ass.'
I bled.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Tony Adams
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/things-better-left-unsaid/
