February 22, 2011
Bike tire spokes
Hover like a halo
Above your head.
They rotate as you
Contemplate, yes,
We all see your
Imagined jabs and
Inside jokes,
They poke us as you walk by.
No words required,
The gentle whirr is enough-
How silly of you to think
No one would notice
That your mental gears
Have melted into
Little external
Metal sticks
That only move
When blown by winds
Of condescension.
3 Comments
jacsprat 