Don’t Feed The Bears

Perched on the rim of a coffee mug
Forever and a day;            
       hungry,
but not in that way. 

Dull-grey vapor             
       Trails through an empty,
crowded street.
Eggshell walking.
Skyscraping.       

Windshield
       wiper blade
swish the tiny, TIN-PLINK harangue           
       atop a cold, steel cage.
Move to the next light and stop. 

Once again, lethargic
like a swell balloon,
bereft of helium. 

Taste the sour-            
       Metallic,
hollow humdrum skeleton,
stinging the back of your throat.
Muted yellow walls;           
       tranquil eyes 

       in a windowless room.
Everyone knows what you’re up to…           
But 
       Silence
save for
       the sound                        
       of rusted and spinning wheels.