A poem about shit, maybe...

As I fell back into a routine, I noticed that one seat looking out, to the street, was attracting my attention more than others. I started to watch it every morning. I had written the first three stanzas but a fourth wasn't coming. Until one early morning a few days ago. One of the regulars, a new friend, was chatting with a customer, but that customer started to say vile things, and throw clumsily veiled threats. It didn't last long. The regular called them out on their behavior, and the ass bolted. The whole thing colored my mood and, as a result, the fourth stanza. I call it Life’s Parade…