poem

beehive

supine in this beehive life situation
safe for now in 2 rooms and a hallway
an octagon on the underside of the honeycomb

outside we’re strangers. bug eyed sunshades
and high walls protect personal peeves
from nothing but hidden happy majorities

lights inside turn buildings into compound mosaic
eyes click left and right and rise into a starless sky
where we look down upon sidewalk pointed heads

white metal a/c units drip water 6 stories
splashing in black puddles outside a pub
where maybe a beautiful girl is watching the game

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