A Bit of a Sing-Song

Cross boundaries daily
not to be contrary
but contrary, yes
it's a personal quandary

a matter of disgust
usually shown thru gesture
one could claim to be its master
not so easily pass muster

a cluster of wrinkled noses
eyes cast anywhere otherward
all afternoon with no skates
a quick goodbye but not another word

am I just a genesis?
self-absorbed flatterist?
test your leather
on this long ride

paths cross like static on the dial
years fade in and out
just like a voice
across the miles

revered and reviled
the trick now to keep on living
despite experience and misgivings
about the general nature of human behavior

if one were to consider
the reasons for these gestures
it's drone-level thought casting
that rules the roost with gun metals