Jimmit and Wilworth

 Jimmit a tubby one and his wife same shape same posture.
She sat more hopeful sat at the trainside, hoping for a ticket.
Speculating about the passer's by.
As I do in this very moment.

Little fat leather bags with their personal items and snacks
Their rounded bodies fit into the bench as if they were simply plump mannequins
Specifically tailor made caricatures for the bench
Jimmit's eyes had no hope, he had given up since the last millenia.

But Wilworth's eyes were quietly confident
Their stomachs touched and filled the remaining space between them
As if eating and fattening had allowed them to fit together
Jimmit lay his head on Wilworth's bossom

He attempted to sleep
But those eyes were still open and told the world it was hopeless. 

Just like one two

 There they go again, one two, one two.
Roads side by side.
Train tracks long ennobled by the rust.
Metal twins that never touch, yet never come apart.

There they go, one two, one two.
The clicks of the carriage wheels.
A boxer's combo,
Knocking it out.

It goes one, two.
Just like a bell.
Pulled once.
That chimes twice.

One two, it rings.
Birth and death.
It rings,
day and night.

It rings, it rings 

Late summer day dream

 I guess you came to me the way an acquired taste does, at first it didn’t take.
It didn’t settle or raise the stakes. Then I saw you, as if in portrait.
Suddenly, it all made sense and too much of it stayed.

Unconsciously, you ushered me toward you, good morning spilling from your lips.
I felt something strange in the encounter, gratitude.
But gratitude turned to long, distracting daydreams.

Blue skies of late summer carried you, walking the footpath,
bouncing, adjusting your hair.
That affection I found in watching you,
that same pang of hot despair.

A desire to find a kind of love few could ever teach,
where something unnamed becomes a tenderness we might reach.
A feeling that moves through me far too deeply.

That same late summer sun bronzes you as I hoped it would,
for that is how I need a woman to be,
majestic in the contrasts of her skin and mood.

Your likeness I have memorized, like an artist obsessed.
Your humor, I do not yet know.

Narrow hearts

Injustice usually fits itself into those narrow spaces inside people's hearts.
Where there are no values, and something feels better than anything.
We seek to even the scales when the case is closed.
we carry forth our claim of wrong doing.

The people and places that have done us wrong.
Become pet rivals we feed with our feelings of outrage.
Going back to see if there is a way to make them pay.
The intensity inside of your grievance has convinced you.

The issue that created the gripe you abuse clerk for.
Was made miles away by a person who doesn't speak to the public.
But you'll go down and get your pound of flesh and ruin everyone's day.
Because people's hearts can be so narrow that way.
 

sliding door quandry

 Come in and forget the past
I have lived and yet still crave living
Let me break you you open and fill you with new dreams
Ones that give flavor to your tastebuds

A feeling of pleasant hunger in your gut
Inexplicable wonder in your mind
As you stand there and calculate if you should enter
Don't pretend you are someone that you are not

leave excuses and inventions behind
The door doesn't open or close it slides
That neutrality turns me on
It's neither too impulsive nor passive

It's glass so I can drink coffee behind it
watch your face twitch as you wrestle with the decision
Unlock it if you step forward
And sigh in both relief and disappointment if you leave

Unblinking symmetry

Goat's strange symmetry.
Looking right through me.
A species it seems incapable of fear.
broad horns down to pointed beard.

Rectangular pupils observe me.
It ignores the trough that holds it's feast.
It's body shakes it's snowy fleece.
Strange restlessness in the beast.

My spirit feels it in these years of dominion.
The goat doesn't smile but I feel it grinning.
It does not bleat nor does it aggress.
It does not fuss nor does it stress.

It stares that deep unsettling analytical stare.
As if it is absorbing the world through eyes aware.
Then it kicks up on ready hardened hooves.
Stands before you barely see it move.

It comes to investigate the afternoon.
It's sculpted features a spiritual vaccum.
Taking in our human vibrations.
No vacillation, no expectations.

It knows what type of person I am.
and clambers the fence to lick my arm.

Packing the van

 He happened on the car, She was still packing it.
For her holiday.
The flight attendents in light turqoise uniforms.
Their stylish shoes making crushing sounds over the gravel parking lot.

Were they there to help.
Or just compare the skills of a great housewife.
To their own capacity to pack an area with baggage.
They came out semi smiling and professional.

These hostesses lost their flight decades ago.
Now we see them rummaging around carparks in the wider state area.
Like homeless deer, Or deer without a forest for animated cartoonish cultureless brains
Packing and unpacking people's items into cars probono.