I like my little spot on the curb
Out in the back
Of the back parking lot
I can see in all directions
I can be an observer, free to watch
Life literally passing me by
Not have to wade in the streams
Of the bullshit and sludge of
Everyone’s every day life
Just watch, observe, contemplate
My own mortality and passing life
This is what it’s like to be me
For fifteen minutes
On an overcast day in March