Charles Hice (May 13 2004 / Heaven)
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They took a cart with four wheels scootered by me just to almost hit my foot they tried to run between the bus stop and the bench where eye was standing waiting for the bus just missing one that left me almost got the dust she flipped at me with her middle finger she had to knoe that eye was there she meant to make me feel bad so what she said he was not there at the stop yet this old man found and scrounge is better than a gang and take this poem is for FOUND things sarcasm is lost inside a deep dark hole I don’t want to take it with me overheard and listened to the conversation all anew again in my imprinted memory as I pen, this; ODE to rudeness, eye have been told there is NO LAW against cell phones or decent public conversations Its hard to see he is my poor brother eye keep my own needs simple and eye travel light,
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