Balls

Beleive it or not, I wrote this one while waiting for the bus... go figure.
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Buses are by no means a science
they are sitting on a curb and constantly staring over your shoulder
drinking petrol fumes and smoking cigarettes
and starting to every sound like deisal

Time is kept in the uneven beatings
of perchance sedans popping the manhole
sometimes its a matter of directions
asked by a tidy looking man for a moment of excitement

It is the tease of its counterpart
whoring down the road from where you want to go
every blunt fat face with two headlights
for a second is your ride
showing themselves down far between a row of trees and two parked cars
just for a second

Staring down the curb like a pellet gun
appears longer than the street
sitting till your balls are sweaty
cause you missed the fucking bus
or cause it came too early

Oh, here it is
seriously