Camping in the Concrete Jungle (F.B. Wood)

 

 

I want to get away from you

To keep my ears from burning and

Save your eyes the scrutiny

Your conscious the guilt

My smells that permeate

Through crinkled nostrils

When we pass

The lasting impression on your

Two piece business uniform

You can’t wipe it off

No matter how much money

You shell out

 

What I want is four opaque walls 

Where your demeanor 

Can’t remind me

I only have what I carry

So blanket me with yesterday’s edition

As I bed myself on your trash

Under a pitched tent of

Quarter inch cardboard

Stow your charity

For once

We can’t see each other

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