He was sitting at the bus stop,
busy on his phone, some website in Japan,
fingering the drool seeping from the corner of his lips.
I sat down.
"Hi.", I said.
He just kept scrolling, searching out
'big hats for big heads',
His pustules screaming out in the afternoon rays,
and the powdered clouds were
laid forthright and precise
by turbines without mercy.
Ray Strickland
May-2022
I like your use of the
I like your use of the Elephant Man as your poem's metaphor.
Starward