Time has gone by, curling up like a cat bundling,
against that cold music-less time,
between the afternoon and the evening.
Here on these streets, it is now too late for those five or six years of bliss I imagined,
But not too late for three or maybe two
Yes those four were wasted. It doesn’t matter, time stands still anyway-
Here, a year or even less would seem like an eternity.
These are the good years, the ones never expected that you live for
They are taken, not given,
(carved), Like some pleasure crafted from the stone of neediness. Is it needy to want air?
You have to cut at it with something hard, not with expectation,
like truth you’ve never known.
They’re not given, but they might be found
A rare (rose) flower you pluck from a forbidden garden.
And doesn’t it feel right?
I should think it might last for a year, at least to the next winter.
She comes in
I could watch her enter many times
Purse down the counter calling
Put a drink here
Open up, shed some bills
Let the cash change hands once
The steaming coffee in a cup goes down
Trades sides, gives in, to the pressures
Stays hidden in his vessel, meek but
More on you later
A jabber jaw strains
(tries hard, crashes, feels the pains)
She’s bending down
Loose change loose everything
I catch a glimpse in a mirror
Lipstick contrivance observance
The cup has followed her and
enters a mouth
Legs swoop- scissor over a chair,
It goes to work without a fight
The normal force, pushing her back
Not even something obscene just
caffeine and it’s a scene, at six fifteen.
What am I to do with all of it?
He regards the yard full of strange stuffs
These skills he learnt all these
years ago. Those quiddities. Those talents of yesteryear.
They’re like parts of machines idle now, but they’re
meant to do things.
Nay, I wanted to do something
good with what I had in my head.
So I thought I’d throw it back at them.
In ways they could not have foreseen. Make their devices
Of reason and logic contort and strain until unrecognizable.
They tried to make me conform, to their ways
I never did. Now I will return
I’m not a conformed entity, a liquid
substance following a mold
I am substance emoting
Everted content revealing and stripping molecules down
To their former purposes, and reprogramming them. And spelling it all out.
I learned well crossing inhospitable places- the value- of a self contained purpose and the hardened