The BMX race

Focusing on overtaking the next bike ahead

crashing seems imminent

The focus of the rider means

we will probably have to cheat 

So I focus on leaving the main track to overtake her

Peddling like a maniac

Dodging pine stumps

some rotten, some stronger than boulders

I catch up to her

She is moving quickly under the pines

I overtake her and out pedals hit against each other

almost toppling both of us

A shiver of addrenaline sends me forward

At the end of the race there is no prize

I shot ahead for nothing

bragging rights are empty

Blades and shovels

 These were left on the course

Digging treasure for dreamers

they line up in queues

To get a piece of something

they saw someone else win

Big racks holding axes and shovels

they might as well be holding humans

For aren't we tools the lot of us

the more we do something the more we become that thing

Finally we retire being used less and less

These tools were left on the course

for cutting down trees

Digging holes

or just for someone's collection

Some of their blades still sharp

Easy to use

effective

others just blunt

but look powerful

And what are you?

Are you the shifter or the cutter?

Do you move things or cut them for your purpose?

Because there's no going back

Dog chasing guinea pigs

 A sense of control is all we need

Here there is none

Chaos rouses and ensues

from out of the bushes comes trouble

A four year old mixed breed black and brown dog

Sprinting the where the little guinea pigs are playing gleefully

Chasing them down until they stop and freeze like statues

while he sniffs them up and down

When the pause completely the dog is confused

He doesn't know how to respond

He sniffs though doesn't bite

He flinches then chases the next one

The grass under the pines 

A confusion of dashing mammals

Jarrad likes fun

 He pretended to have fun at the party
red drinks, cranberry probably
Dirty jokes, they were in the mood for
Jarrad fake laughed

Dimples and a widening smile
But no real feeling behind any of it
Alcohol worked slightly
made it easier to go along with it all

On his way home an authentic smile robbed his face
Not because the evening was spectacular
Not because he was relieved
But because he had liked pretending to have fun

Food hoses and the art of derision

 In the factory of the leering competition
A key is not for a door
It is a nozzle
That fits over a small food hose

The key is nothing more than a flavor flask
That connects to the hose
and flavors the food as it comes out of the hose

The leering competition look down on others
And are in turn looked down on
Giving the impression that there is skill to it

They manipulate nozzles to their own tastes
Sneering at one another
A different flavor yet no brain for distinction

A new boss making use of the remains

 A leader is born through a take over
The new agenda forced upon all
The underlings will eat last month's leftovers

Some of them will become last month's leftover
Cut fruit souring in its box
Old pizza congealing cheese

It all used to have purpose
Now it listens to its commands
and goes off

The Dilly Ode

Twenty species in one person

A good one a fair one 

There is Dilly birds

For you seem so dilly sporadic
Wings boosting out of hedgerows
Words across the page expanding red hot magma

The Dilly quids

The value retained from each dilly interaction
The quid pro quo of reciprocity
Quids that lost its leading S

The Dilly goods

For what is not better than a parcel
One you don't know the contents of
All wrapped for the distribution center

The Dilly elixir

For sometimes the medicine cures
Certain days in the hurry or the dilly dally
That is when you need that Dilly examining