The sun is shining in my eyes and I left my fucking
sunglasses at home. You can feel the spring advancing, coiled venomous snake
ready to strike. I use to reveal in how random life was, now an old grey and
weathered fat drunk speaks to me at the bus stop like we were old friends. Was that a drone, there by the corner of the
building. I swear that was a drone. Why am I waiting on this bus? And why
won’t this drunk leave me alone? Excuse me, WHAT IS IT? Do I have a “fucking
care” look on my face? The construction continues across the street, loud and
noisy like Godzilla belching out a fur ball. Still the suns burns thru my
eyes as the breeze tattoos my face. “And the radio plays that forgotten song”.
