Today i sat at a bus stop

a brick bench

outside of a saloon

where drunks got to gathering

and doing what they do best

crawling inside bottles

hidden in the dim lit

atmosphere of another

lost generation

with no definition

sitting out in the sun

I wished them well

and wanted for them

to experience beauty

as I have seen it

but then thought

about how crowded

that might make things

and I have always disliked crowds

but I would never

crown myself a coward

I walk tall

I hold my head up

and saunter regally

The king of the city

regarded as a pauper

On paper

is where my blue blood

spirit flows

and no one knows

but those

who take the time to read

and nurture the seed

and watch it grow

Where do we go

with how little we know

super computers

will one day

take the place of poets

as our hearts become machines

and our dreams are LED lights

when our mothers are bored

with our souls as programs

our binary language

can not defeat the virus

as we watch our lives

pass by us

I am still at a bus stop

not waiting for anything

and enjoying the sun

and I would like to think

it is also enjoying me