Scanner Eyes

Scanner Eyes

When the downtown hustle
splits in half,
I ride the shoulders of the noontime crowd-
Shooting laser lines
from my eyes
scanning oncomers
who keep on coming,
for a fateful glance.

No longer waiting for past troubadors
who stumble out their troubled doors
on the way to wine and waste

I scan, because I can,
searching for the eyes that look
and understand.

Inside the apple rots.
The worm that would be free
eats,
but never catches light of day.

My sinuses are filled with words.
A poem clogs my mind.
Breathing was an easier thing to do
another day.