Billy craved a noxious fume, disjointed
rambling when colors and cars
are senseless. The new riders ask
the driver the same question, endlessly
as Billy stares at the greasy hair-smear,
between him and the Sun, an ugly,
unhygienic galaxy, beside intriguing
reflections of the skirt-clad black girls
on their way to school. Billy drinks the
blue stuff from the worn water bottle
between bouts of nervous tapping and
rubbing his pants.