STAIRWELL POEM #2

Slightly askew the shopping geese
flutter at the top of the stairs
all in search of something new
They pass me at the bottom of the stairs
and rush inside to inspect the wares.
The smoke rises from her mouth
her breath something un cool
he thinks there is the habits of a fool.
A hand in pocket jingles change
and the bus won’t pass this way again.
I hunt in this image blind
ambushing all manner of mankind
and there is something decidedly sick
captured in this camera’s click.