2am

 2am

My eyes are round as nickels my 

pupils like dimes as I now know something 

which had previously eluded me 

and it makes me feel 

washed up on cold sand tired 

tired to beat the band set in my place 

by the slow movement of a hand

i’ve been doing no one favors as i 

tossed them candy from my fire-truck 

saying things like ‘sweet’ and ‘well’ and

trying to please the entire parade confounded by 

the trash left on the street

dont know what gave me the notion i was 

chamomile tea 

to every changing face that once entreated me 

thought I was kind and found that I 

am only another kind of cruel