ode to charles b.
it's the little things
the broken shoelaces
on the way out at the door
the shove of an elbow
that sends the red wine flying
the dollar overcharge
for the coffee on the train
the introduction to the single
other native english speaker
on a saturday night
the wrong change at the
checkout after fighing
over every promotional
price not registereed
it's all the little things
that crop up under the
lack of attention to detail
with life moving so quickly
all the little things are
only an impression
of a blur through a dirty
window of a speeding train.