Passers-By
Latte in a paper cup
and cigarette in hand
define me while I sit
and peruse the passers-by
on a busy side walk.
On the street engines groan
like Big Game I want to shoot
as they pass the passers-by.
Instead I am the Game and
a tourist is the hunter with her
Iphone Camera trained
on me!
I try to hide ; cornered I am
snared, click goes her weapon
and I am shot! Enraged at her
cheek!
She smiles at me and motions
With her lips ‘thank you’ and
disappears into the side-walk
rumble ; lost to the passers-by.
Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment