Sit and watch the world go by.
Sit and watch the paint refuse to dry.
Sit while they stand to pledge their allegiance.
Sit and tell your dog to do the same.
Sit until your ass complains about it and then sit some more.
Sit because a landmine took your foot in ‘63 and cancer took the other in ‘05.
Sit and you can see the world as it really is from down here:
the red veins in their eyes when they roll their eyes,
the faces children make that they think adults won’t see,
the breeze carding its fingers through the grass,
the world going by.