who we areA Poem by anothermaleidApprehensions creeping, Tube train’s in the head Polka dotted vision, The loony’s tuned in. There’s music when there’s none, Fresh air in the hot and humid surrounds. The garbage smells of flowers so sweet, The warm cola cools the insides. Its forty three degrees outside, The air conditioning’s on full blast. The thirty degrees in The hottest I’ve experienced. Who are we? Who we are?
© 2011 anothermaleid |
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2 Reviews Added on July 27, 2008 Last Updated on July 15, 2011 Author
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