fuck the syllables
a three line poem will
i wish i had your ego, allen
the confidence to assert my genius to the world
but i tap out the syllables to haikus
to the rhythm of commercials on mtv2
i saw two boys
in front of virgin records.
with thrift-store clothes, shaggy hair, shoulder-bags and converse,
they were sitting on a subway-vent reading poetry.
i wanted to sit down with them--it felt like i should
but i shuffled by with the crowd and looked back with regret