SIGNATURE REQUIRED:
I notice four empty chairs in the window, facing the street.
Two men huddled in a corner, discussing plans laid out on a table.
I notice a skinny woman in Picasso stripes, bug-eyed sunglasses
nesting in mousey hair, bad split ends, always looking down.
Two skinny moms hunched over a table, talking fast in plumby voices.
I notice a happy young dad in a faded yellow t-shirt, greeting
all the girls as he stoops to retrieve litter. They keep walking
as he grins.
I notice the woman perched like a crow on the edge of a seat,
meticulously fingering an electric tablet on her knees like a
perfumed gargoyle.
I notice the old blonde in leopard print, rubbing her palms
together as if in prayer.
I notice the gut on the old bloke younger than me in his t-shirt,
faded, tucked into the belt of his jeans.
I notice the old blonde leaving, how frail she walks, how elegant
she stands.
I notice the smile on the woman entering the room, swinging a
handbag like she’s just received the best news & wonder what she
looks like without her glasses?
I notice the crow woman wears golden pumps & a knitted poncho
in summer.
I notice the same girl I see every morning, older than her years.
The way she locks her hands together, carrying her bag like the
old women shoppers of my youth.
I notice a stack of cheap gold bangles rattling round her wrists.
Her pale powdered face looks like that famous actress in
Alice in Wonderland.
She says,
“Hello Babe!: when she greets other women.
She always talks about her boyfriend, but sits alone.
I notice the crow woman, joined by a woman with hair like
Joan of Arc, carrying a silver glitter shopping bag.
I notice a plump voiced stick woman enter the room, sunglasses
nesting in her mousey hair, a nervous smile, unsure what to do
with her arms. They remain stiff by her side as she walks like a
teenage boy.
I notice how fear in my stomach makes it hard to eat.
I notice the accent of the crow woman is Spanish or Italian.
She talks without taking breath, holding a half eaten slice of
white buttered toast in the air, between her talons. Actually,
it’s Italian.
I notice the room is mostly full of women.
I notice the one with what looks like a leech tattooed on her ankle.
I notice the forty-something couple, well groomed, both blonde,
both wearing matching denim shirts. He lifts a twenty from his
wallet, she plucks it from him, smiling, sunglasses nesting in
her air. He beams down at her like they’ve just had a hot night.
I notice the two men huddled over plans in the corner, one says,
“It doesn’t bother me!” in an East London accent.
I notice the well groomed blonde in the denim shirt sat alone in
the window, light glancing of the sunglasses nesting in her hair
as she looks up & down the street, waiting for her man.
And here he comes!
Tom Petty sings ‘Free-falling’ as the underscore.
(K)
Aren’t we all sobbing on the inside?
Aren’t we all trying to confirm?
But isn’t this the fight that kills the light?
Like addiction – we love it , need it, hold it close
Fill the hole
LIke the days of repetition – routine, comforting, safe
Now strangles us – Fill the hole
LIke marriage, mortgages, babies, round and round we go
Keep the monster fed – Fill the hole
LIke chasing youth – fallen blossoms, the orange leopardskin skin
Fill the hole
Battle weary warriors us all – but for what
Let’s just all STOP!
Pick & mix
Of
People*
Achtung baby is nicht zu verwechseln mit baby rekords oder only the lonely oder?
Wann holst du mich ab karl oder hast du angst vor dem rasenmäher oder?
…,…. … …….. .
Erinnerst du dich nicht?
Everyone marching to the beat of their own drum, is what makes us all unique and individual. Be outside and not inside the box, free thinking and moving.
don’t judge a book by it’s cover
say those who’re keen to cover up their empty pages