grass can’t grow without dirt

I notice dead birds.. babies..
ugly people fat people.. beautiful people..
sad people hungry people.. alone people.. mean people.. depressed people..
angry people.. people with shotguns, people with knives..
people without heart and people with kites that are stuck in trees…
I notice people with oranges and people with fruit..
people on their porches and in parachutes..
I notice people I don’t like and people I hate
I notice hipsters with skinny pants and whores on roller skates..

I notice how the grass can’t grow without dirt
how some people can’t smile if the sunshine doesn’t hit their teapots in time
before the water gets hot
some people have to have pictures of their mothers on their fridge
even if she was a bitch

I have noticed that people have to share needles like dirty cards
with the rest of themselves

I have never met a busker who didn’t drink or do drugs…
it’s usually a habit.. then it becomes a chore.. they never let anybody in..
or they never let people they know who love them know what they are doing