It sounds clownish
What I hear is the clamor of vociferous
acoustics, season’s bug , the hurriedly
vying megalomaniac’s dream enacted
on the streets, I jump into the pavement,
behind me wailing or whispers not from
sophomores but beginners of the
university campus, yet romping down,
“ no friends, no life, no taste,”
a mad , imbecile craving, I feel,
what good to have many a friends
who stand not in times of dire need,
misguiding and misshaping ,
you are a canoe, rudderless, sinking
better to be alone, to seek a friend
in your self, than faith in fiends,
I bend to pick up a perfumed kerchief,
the red colored double Decker bus,
halts to branch us off to different
stages, the piece of cloth reaches
the owner, she waves and smiles ‘good-by’.
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