At Mark and Charlie's

I am the epitome of mobility
Riding hands free along the canal
High-fiving low-hanging trees
Cat's eyes watching me
Knees pumping like pistons
As I breeze through the breeze
Terminal velocity as my
Velo
Extracts me from the city
My olfactories spy the genesis
Of good old Scottish whiskey
Half Moon pricks the sky
With perfect geometry.

The Bus Stop

Stood in my spot
At my squat
I'm the big shot
Looking down from atop
My high rock
To the Bus Stop
Where I wave at you lot

With my willy.