transgressions from the bus stop

look all you want. this is a migrated, mitigated america
and i can't crush your eyes. so proceed in taking your piece
of me. and keep driving. put that pedal to the metal Mr. Americana,
don't glance or turn your head to follow
the waves of my clouded red hair.
my own black weather ways in this mid morning sunlight prevent
my crimes, your crimes, from fading in the daylight.

you know, crack cocaine is washed up on the shores of Belise
and the affluent vend drugs from front stoops.
are you as cast off and soaked up as those little bags
of white and dirty piss yellow? are you as consequential as the sea?
are you making a dent or digging a hole with your shovel of troubles?
"these news papers are making up words for the lay men," she says,
"and i paid fifty cents for a scandal and an arguement.

when we confess our sins we become invisible and invincible again,
our transgressions from the bus stop like that
giant hunk of machinery churning exhaust and spinning squealing tires.
i can't eat my bagel at your stiff green painted table
without buying something first
and there are children starving in africa. how many times
have you heard that one at the dinner table??
there are people taking surves of my nielsen rating demographic
in order to store my statistical generation on disk.
soon we won't have to leave the house because we
shop and talk and live and lie
in megabytes and microthin fiberglass wires.

so look at me, and take your piece of ass home
to bed with, lay my receding image on your pillow and
let me be the girl you oafishly whistled at.
i can be dreams even if i don'tsleep.

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Email: elmosg@hotmail.com