sometimes the smell is so bad

it turns your stomach

and leaves you with the unpleasantness

that burns

and the fire department comes

and its not for you

but the cat in the tree is very thankful

I am alright with that

daydreaming of that buddhist

lighting the match

igniting himself

the music is a deaf songbird

protest songs are unwritten

on guitars getting dusty

who has the energy

everyone lives in roomy coffins

with distractions

thinking we are individuals

while we are divided

and conquered

it business casual

as unusual as ever

trying to enjoy the ride

down the drain

i work my way

through the labyrinth of pipes

while so many of us

are stuck in the septic tanks

waiting to be sucked out

and transported

to refinery’s

it amazes me

how the blind see

in their own way

perceiving our realities

mimicking mimes

till the comedy

becomes unfunny