I got soul but Im not a shoulder.

The morning air is bracing
First thing after sleep
The steepled sun is raising
The day up another steep
Enbankment of another
Session at work straining
For straight A's....


The abacus
Straining the truth
Through concious thought
To the rythmic boom
Of guests in the room
Though you left your watch at home
Anihilate
All passing opposition
On the bus seat opposite
When the wheeling gulls
Pass you by one more time