Spend thrift eel eaters

 The old man had an oversized wallet
or well charged credit cards
turned up on the forest planet grin and cash
all over his face and in his hands

Optimism radiated off the film of sweat
His family all happy in anticipation
he pointed across the counter 
ordered a gigantic albino eel

it was overgrown and overlapping over the tray
The family ooed and ahhhed, as he got out his credit card
The oldest son said don't spend it all it's a waste
The old man flinched almost offended

But the purchase had already been made
now the eel would be cooked
The family overfed
and the leftovers given to the ducks

My old ones

 They sat in darling park

something finite wrapped around my spine

on the side of the hill

under twilight lodge

At a picnic table next to the duck pond 

they look out across the small pond with one or two ducks

blue green faces white striped necks

swimming in a slow constant push over the surface

This calmed the old ones

They weren't looking for pity

But they had been waiting there

 in that dimension for a thousand years

Just sitting exchanging gestures

interlocking fingers

feeling the wind

for eternities

I could see them from the lost forest

The area I have been trudging around in

millions of light years away

Proximity

 some big eel
trying to get from one pool to the next
In river of hot maniac predators
with fangs and barbs and stings

tactics to destroy
I got to get out to sea the big eel, said
The guppy beside asked why
The sea is where I mate it's xanadu

It's also dangerous the guppy said
Not as dangerous as this river were shooting down, Eel replied
How so? I know for a fact there are much bigger fish in the sea
It's not about numbers of fish, it's about the proximity, Eel replied

Then everything went very dark for the guppy
Where am I? said the guppy in panic
Oh I ate you, though it was good talking, Eel told him
But we are still talking, said the guppy now calmer

Oh yeah, you'll be alright for another five minutes. Eel said

The curse of luxury

 

Henry would get the best of things
Accumulating those great things
Yet each time he would extract less pleasure from each event
He would walk into a shop and expect more

The cash didn't talk anymore
he'd spend more time complaining than showing gratitude
it was the epicurean paradox
the accounts from diminishing returns

Henry's dopamine was leaking out like his cash
as he searched for the next exciting adventure
getting into the foyer of some five star
frown almost moist with tears

People would be fated to disappointing the man 
and would sometime make their mistake early on
to get it out of the way almost like jabbing the bully
before he laid into him mercilessly with blows and threats

The cop the cleaners and the fancy horse

 Pop shop shelter shut
Mop the sops tell her to watch the juts
cloth flopping from knelt cleaner in a rut
pill popping cop yelping with a stutter

Advising the cleaners to be civil in his shrill trying mutters

Pop shop shelter shut
clopping top horse falters and fusses
enjoying slop feeling like a high class slut
A tropical drop melting on the shell of a nut

One almost opened to consume before monsoon

The horse said to the cop
the stables were closed
he said my pop shop shelter shut
the corridor aint fit for a mutt

 The cop stopped but just felt his overgrown gut

The affable mob and withdrawn assembly

 We found a place to stay in a long corridor like room
exposed on all sides by windows that took up the entire space of the walls
The bed was not big enough
it had shrunk and shrunk

downstairs there were groups of people with badges and missions
who were getting their instructions from somewhere else
look at their hands mixing and repairing busy busy busy
oh look at their mouths constantly talking and chewing

those of you still motionless observing
Like furniture with monitoring cameras
You see the riot of action and noise
and within the passive head applaud

can I have you quiet ones upstairs please
line up along this second floor, stand in silence
While the others busily try to stretch this bed
so we will have something to sleep on tonight

A sunlover

 The world was to be mine
I sat calmly under the lilac
summer a butler
in tree shade and loose bliss

I held up my fist
yes
it was all mine
Sun my spotlight

Set up to tread
one foot at a time
to sign my name into the soil
It was all to be mine

tender leaves wave like future audiences
brushed and groomed by the wind
my personal ventilator
lulling me back to sleep

Thirst quenching dreams
of past life conquests
and future challenges
A plump sunloving baby

coming alive to form a
strange combination of words