Reid@YWP

The West Wind is a banker in a smart navy suit and a tie. His dress shoes clack on the pavement; he’s got someplace to be, always someplace to be, rushing to the sidewalk, the subway, the elevator, checking his gold Rolex watch.

I come here to

express myself

semi-anonymously,

but freely

and happily.

My laptop is

bombarded with

tabs, one of which

is YWP.

Always.

I may not

write a poem

You matter.

Not in a pastel poster sort of way. Not in a science teacher’s dad-joke shirt sort of way.

In a rain drop sort of way.

The rain drops don’t need to be there

Not all of them

For it to be raining.

20,000 leagues above mankind sits an ivory tower

A tower with men and women who hold all the cards

A tower so strong not even a missile barrage could crumble it

I find it absurd that the President is doing so much bad I no longer have the capacity to feel any more.

I have become 

numb

numb to the fact that this man has broken so many laws you can't even count them.