poem of the day 01.22.13

we make it so ugly

on evenings buses

that smell like rotten eggs

from the breath of people

shouting into cell phones

i stare outside another window smear

at christmas lights and a manger

still up in mid-january

watch as we pass a row of dead pine trees

that look like a horizontal forest

mingling with the garbage-strewn street

and wonder why

we always have to make it so ugly

for each other.