Email Poem

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Personal Note:
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Poem
I don't know why I am here but I am here
I don't know what to do but I  do
I don't know what to sing but I sing
I don't know how to laugh but I laugh
Strange city strange people strange sound
Its bla bla bla and puking all around 
The same traffic prowling up and down the empty street
The same middle man playing the same  scrupulous  beat
And the same officers eating the same dirty meat
I  have studied the pattern carefully  so as not to add fire to fury 
I  have listened to my family and neighbor while having  dinner 
And  promised to turn things over to avoid a hostile takeover
The big bad wolf is  jumping around in the playpen
waiting for the gluttonous  business men
And distracting the naive crowd while gallivanting about  
They walk around the city in pairs holding  big market shares
Every Wednesday they show up in town playing music and dancing around
The Thursday crew and the Wednesday crew  have broken the rules 
Something magnetic pulled me from my empty chair
and whisper something crucial in my ears
I walked quickly down the street looking at the people in front of me
Something felt unusual about  the day so I went the other way
I saw wild  berries on  trees  hanging  over the side walk
I reached out and picked a bunch of berries with my bare hands
I held up  the bunch of berries  in my hand and meditate 
while the traffic   flow  easily in my direction
Something significant caught my attention 
on the opposite side of the street in the rare summer heat
A young man wearing a blue tea shirt and a hoodie jacket concealing his head 
walked quickly down the street spitting on the ground and texting on his phone
The traffic  suddenly came to a standstill and a heavyset white man
with tattoo markings all over his body spread out on a big motor bike staring
The sound of the big motor cycle echoed from afar and his heavy metal music sounded like a brawl
He stopped right next to me waiting for the light to change
I kept walking along the side walk crushing the  berries in my hand
The purple berry juice stained my hands and out of the blue
a red car drove up in the other lane waiting in line
I stopped walking and looked over at the woman in the red car
Her dyed purple hair synchronize with the purple berry juice 
that stained my hands
And so the tattooed man on the big motor bike
The man wearing a hoodie jacket in hot summer
And  the purple hair woman  driving the red car
stood out in the afternoon crowd.
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