He chose that spot, that stance, that cigarette,
but he wears it like it's unintentional.
I was almost convinced, until the secondhand smoke hit me.
Why do you stand in front of an ice cream shop,
six inches from traffic, at 4 p.m. on a Sunday?
Do you lose yourself in the motorists,
the melancholy of the intercom,
Why does your hair match your sneakers,
and why is your stance aggressive?
Did you mean to contradict yourself
when you wore that wrist watch and vest at the same time?
Every thing about you is falling apart
except for that scooter and the helmet you pulled out of it.
Do you not smile when your friends pull up in scooters worth half yours?
Did you know you his tail light is shaped like a heart?