I dont know if this is poetry, but heres something for the letter.

Crack at the bus stop ? are you serious ? sure you are, maybe thats why i came here too

In fact i live right down the street , what am i doing at the bus stop ?

to get caught up in all the ways of the wrong sometimes feels like S&M for the chicken soup soul

hey cracker you need anything ?

" Listen Red, Im cuban (not a cracker more like a galleta ) and i wouldnt be here if i didnt need anything"

words exchanged too often for my own good.

Dope holes a plenty when trotting down that path. Theres always a man on a bicycle that has everything you've ever wanted, except a good nights sleep. Hell, you can trade that in for a lungfull round these parts, who needs sleep anyway.To quote the late and great crimpshrine , "sleep, whats that ?"

thank you sir for the dime in my teeth, I'll walk home now in a nervous fashion. The city is a bit different after dark, its true. It'll treat you like a punching bag while reality is training at the same gym.

Seeingthese glimpses of coudvebeen contender types serving you up rocks and handjobs is lemon juice into the sorest eyes, but still quite a sight.

feeling good until the delusion you paid for wears of and you need to pick a corner of the house to die in is lollipops to the most masochistic. i guess i was first in line for that role.

I also starred in that film about walking away . It had something to do with Miami Vice or maybe just having a Vice in Miami. Something along those lines. Goodnight.