Don't Walk

A little light music,
tired of the view,sick,
to shoehorn my brain,
black leather polished,
ill thought abolished,
workplace admonished,
cup tipping from hot sipping,
another mug of tea strained.
Just another,
ugly mother,
bright,
tight fitting,
quite fitting,
supposedly fag quitting,
commute sitting day.
Pitting weary wits,
unwittingly slipping on quips,
streets greased from shoulder chips dripping of,
folk gripping handrails,
for succor from life's betrayals.
The repetition in the best tradition
of the saddest tales repeated
from words and songs depleted
of meaning.