D.Y.K.

He keeps riding in circles

Blinders over ear, focus straight

Edged over, fat spheroid, clear dome

Bell competes uneasily, sound of now

Overpowered by aural comforts

His tenth or 22nd lap, distracted tallies

Fueled by Amy’s knock-off burrito bowl

Where’s the carb? Where’s the substance?

The cashier asks as if asking is the answer

Do you know? Do you know? Do you know?

That’s a new one… right… like the diamond bleacher

Belch on playground, now a felony or death conviction

Good evening, good evening

Continuums

To none in particular the breezes addressed

But they spoke to me

Director Jesus

He’s one with the officer running reds

(Heard it’s blue before the oxygen hits)

Just B, cuz! He can!

Why can’t you? Why, beast? Anything else?

Or could I sleaze on my stagnant way

Flooded pants breathe, keep the fray