2:47

2:47. I see you everyday, 2:47. Atop that wall, feeding the colorful imaginations of the world. Rightfully so, it discerns that sketchy hood drawn over your eyes and it questions your all-black clothing Drugs It says. It whispers the word snidely and spreads it heedlessly. But if the world were to sit and watch, as I watch you, from 2:47 2:48 2:49 2:50 2:51 2:52 until 2:53 they'd see, as I see, that you wait for a bus and for a child to come off that bus. She'll smile with her flat, broad face, and her upward slanting eyes because she doesn't know what the world has whispered and she wouldn't care. He's all she knows, he is her world.