2:47.
I see you everyday, 2:47.
Atop that wall, feeding the colorful imaginations of the world.
Rightfully so, it discerns that sketchy
hood
drawn over your
eyes
and it questions your
all-black clothing

Drugs
It says.
It whispers the word snidely and spreads it heedlessly.
But if the world were to sit
and watch, as I watch you,

from 2:47
2:48
2:49
2:50
2:51
2:52
until 2:53

they'd see, as I see,
that you wait for a bus
and for a child to come off that bus.
She'll smile with her flat, broad face, and her upward slanting eyes
because she doesn't know what the world has whispered
and she wouldn't care.
He's all she knows, he is her world.