mistaken genius
ninety degree bus
strangling in sun
with screaming children
sweat locked
in every beer-fat crevice
wearing the lightest t-shirt
that i own
one covered in green and orange paint
the people
in varying states of misery
fanning themselves
wiping their brows
cursing public transportation
for its continuous failure
stare at me
with their vile, flabby faces
of societal judgment
they probably think
that i’m insane
in this get-up
insane or homeless
well, let them think as they will
i’m ten degrees cooler in this
plus i like to think that i look
just like joan miro
strolling along the beaches of palma
after painting one masterpiece
and contemplating another
instead of just another
asshole on the bus
trying to get home
to lock himself away from the heat
and wait on the autumn
to arrive.
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