On Air Poem by I.J. Benjamin

yesterday
as i was sitting in the
shade,
sipping lemonade
as
crowds went
by,
it occurred to me
and the wind
that swept my
face,

i'm just like air
the midnight air,
the stale air
that seems to hang
forever there,
in hidden alleys
and dark
spaces
and lonely, unmarked
graves,
and unexplored,
ghostly ways
that's looked upon with
stone cold hate

and just like that sickly
air,
that sort of stands
there,
i am there,
thinking
watching
dreaming
and no one
cares