I listen to
coffee and cigarette words
struggling in Martice.


“…people we care about.
Doing what we want, cooperatively.
Three inner human beings smiling
because we let them smile.
But how can I smile
with a sad, torn, broken human spirit?

“If I’m not good in the sunshine,
why do I say to the person who can’t comprehend,
‘Where do I fit?’

“They don’t care
because they have the power,
bossing me around as if I’m an animal.
It don’t work that way.

“I was looking to work;
I wasn’t out in the swamp.
…know what I mean?

“I’m like,
“WOW” can you help me.
Can you help me.
…know what I mean?

“How can I smile
when there’s nothing to smile about?
How do I make it better?
I can’t smile about pride
because I don’t have any.
What part do I have?
“…I’m still not a vegetable.
I’m just me going down the same road
with a different pebble.
“…know what I do?
keep planting,
I keep growing.”


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