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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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