An Egghead... Poem by RIC BASTASA

i remember an egghead,
his head feels so light
like silk handkerchief inside your hand,
you do not pay particular attention to its color
i know,
you have no time for an egghead,
but i always remember him and you are angry
why i remember him and i am your favorite brother
who rose to the skies
more of a kite on a windy summer
and you do not like me to
sympathize with an egghead,

you see, you cannot blame me brother
i am traumatized

he broke his head in front of me
and you left him spilling his gray brains on the street
amidst those indifferent people
who merely pass by
as though no one died that early morning

you are one of them
with coat and tie
and who do not care if
others die,

if you call me another egghead
i may by now, be a little dignified

but i promise you
there will be no more brains spilled on this angry street