Robin Reids

Hunting humanity

the bus weaves through tunnels,

emerging under an overpass,

piss yellow light flows through my window

hinting at their smell.

two moth eaten men bask in the perpetual twilight,

stretched out on stained towels,

the clattering chains of cars

unaware of their damp souls,

a deathless tremor consumes them,

pounding the ground,

the one with the underbite grinds his teeth,

like a bulldog trying to sing,

his friends leg keeps the time,

I can’t hear him,

but I imagine he’s singing.

both seem happy,

better yet, satisfied,

one with his tobacco pouch,

the other with his milk and hot chicken,

for them,

today was a good day.

lurching out from the overpass into the darkness,

i recall the morning,

dry mouth screaming for water,

dry brain wailing for dopamine,

i shared that feeling with those men beneath the overpass.

An untangling

of tangled minds.

grey clouds and

pale yellow thoughts,

a storm bellows.

eyes fixed on each other,

let it come,