BUM’N
Blue bus!
STOP….
You bypassed your deck hands

Sitting there;
Resting legs, dangling over the worn bus stop bench.
Waiting to embark on the pirate’s treasure.

Grungy, long sleeve grey shirt, black sweat band
Torn faded blue jeans;
Not like the store bought fade.

Soiled face, Italian mustache
Dark complexion,
But cleanly shaven
Convening with a black man
In a sinister midnight sweat suit

Listen to these mad cats.
Laughing about shooting up
&
Smacking bitches like
            They are actual bitches.

No need to smell the stench,
Booze present

It was before noon.
Bum’n IT.
Striving to get their
Hot Lunch Fix.

All in a pass of Judgment.
Fuck, I don’t know them.
Just their black cloak Judge,
Cruising by