Band Me

March 23, 2011 / 5:13 pm

His eyes are kindness.
A kind of I-know-what-
Is-what. But more than
All that I can tell
Trivial things try to
Tear down the dockets
Of his mind. Memory
Brings bags of boring
And all I have to add is
That I enjoy the ride.
Rare as the chance is,
I still wait in queue, quick
To get back on line as soon
As its over. Offers are not
Extended lightly, living is a
Hard hiccup in the middle of
A chug and what happens
After the spit is the best part.