Slow motion over the goods
What you seek you can not find here
The price is no good
the mouth asks
The things you've come for
An empty bag remains
an unpaid receipt
An unreciprocated glance
Slow motion farewell
a wish of goodness
some sort of giving up
trolley wheels whine in defeat
On the side of the highway
he was abandoned at fourteen
At school they called him simple
At home, useless
He had been kicked out of his parents car
He would have to make his own way from here
He walked up the steep slope beside the highway
the slippery grass did not hinder him
He reached the narrow stretch at the top of the slope
Along the wooden fence separating the houses from the highway
He collects fruit that had fallen down on the highway side
just enough for a days sustenance
He wandered on not soiled yet, not dirty
But abandoned, with tragedy gripping the rails
Down the line of fate's indifferent tracks
He would become another homeless collector
of inevitable misfortune
Yonder I would arrive
Moon city lit
Wanting bed moving forward
No curiosity for gravity
Above the tenenments
Below the city's canopy
Moonlight bathing
sheets adjusted
Night dark blue
Purple lining
city lights and moon shine compete
sleep will overtake
I woke there
Humble tables
Moon want beds
waiting slumber
But I woke there
Routine gripped me yet
Like a machine repeating
My mechanical body continued
I woke there
Confused yet busy
The moment those eyes opened
where had I slept?
Because I woke there
Had I wondered after dark
Looking for my next task
seeking to exit this dream
The concrete heats up inside the mixer
It burns and leaks out of the steel container
then it pours into the space to fill the next level
steaming and occasionally burn
The concrete fills up like hot grey soup
It will set and then crack
soon the building may fall
But the drizzle fell and cooled it off
It was losing heat and bonding well
solidifying slowly over the day
readdy to bear the unrealistic weight
Of another ten stories on top of it
Her arm band fits well
clings to the skin
Stretched over it
From the wrist to the shoulder
To protect the skin from the light
The elgance to it
Inside the arm is snug
The world outside
full of its random mishaps
Something to comfort
Something to put the pieces
back together
There were four of them at the table
One for each side of it
Each one a different opinion
mouths for eating
mouths for describing
Four of them barely using ears
Noise was supposed to contain words
But meaning was alien
Like a homeschooled amish kid
being exposed to the modern world all at once
So the four kept their eyes and ears closed
rasping their voice boxes
And inbetween rants feeding their faces
The table spinning faster and faster
Then came the vomiting
And the rants and vomiting merged\
Becoming one acidic cloud swirling
beating against their faces
consuming them
