Bladder

Fuck. I can’t write anything.

This effort, the unending
trying

in this life we’ve designed,
leaves me with

nothing.

I ride the freezing early mornings,
surrounded by
a smothering of coats,

and I swear,
always there is a moment,

just before the bus screeches stops,
that I understand
the vagrant on the street

taking a piss on the world.