He sits there…
He sits there with a pony to the back and a cherry to his mouth. He inhales, he exhales. He pry’s his intellectualism on an innocent bystander, she pretends to listen.
He sits there…
Second cherry… inhale, exhale. His legs are crossed, accent unrecognizable. Birkenstocks caress the soft feet. Bracelets and finger jewelry engulf the privileged hands.
He sits there…
He squints as he observes. One can only imagine he has already cured cancer in the time I’ve written this.
He sits there…
Smoking scholar tell me the answer… smoking scholar tell me why you take yourself so seriously. Smoking scholar take a fresh breathe and let me enlighten you on what I believe to be important but first… close your eyes.
He lies there…
Washington square park
7.30.06.