My coffee is steaming hot but the bench in the *Park is not, it’s cold and damp, I watch the early morning smog slipping by the lamp. A panhandler rings his bell, I bet it’s my brew he did smell, my eyes burn and tear sometimes it can be hard to bear.
Those high snow caped mountains encircle us all with their huge rocky arms, but don’t be fooled by their majestic charm what they embrace is the cause for much alarm. The car pool saved me, at rush hour the traffic is so heavy that I could walk home and take another shower and be back again within the hour. Love those Express Lanes where we glide along singing a song, me, and the morning three. Many angry faces in the bumper to bumper crowd we see, my conscience barks at me; wipe that smile off your face along with your glee.
City living can give you much despair, gazillions of people, and many cars, maybe I can sell fresh air by the jars?
