he speaks through his third eye
about the power of I
lush in the obtuse contraction
of constantly half-noted detail
intriguing?
by no apparent definition
he dictates buses
postulates their travel
in muted intervals of hatred
something about headlights
movement
in streamline sequence
and how the staring
makes their glow a brilliant blue
infinite as chalk-dust creations
here this minute, gone the next
with only the interminable threat
of omnipresent revenue raisers
lingering to perpetuate the fear
but he likes the perspective
the sharp edge of a razor blade
doubles as demanding extractor
for the unbidden expression
on which he feeds regurgitates
and so he stays.