Archive for the ‘People Watching’ Category

Poetry in motion;
Left foot first, then right.
Jaws drop and pants
Become uncomfortable
And embarrassing.
The sway of her hips
The play
Of fabric on skin,
The soft swish of her dress
Bunching and un-bunching,
And teasing.

In my mind she’s slowly revealing
All her most sensitive parts.
In my mind we’re just two
And the room is dim gloom
Slightly diffuse.
The play of fabric becomes
The play of hands.
Skin on skin,
Soft swishing becomes
Soft but slowly growing
Reaching a pinnacle
A climax.

But then she’s gone.
Around the corner
Or out of sight
And my hands rush to cover
My own
Growing embarrassment.


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Fever-bright these eyes of mine

Missed step
Missed lie
No connection, at least I tried.

Crooked smile
Watching her leave
Turn to see me looking back at me.

Splotchy red and fever bright
Another drink
No thought tonight.

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Old men gathered around a pipe, pointing and arguing as though it were a piece of art. As though their lives were tied to it; that small piece of pipe.
Which, being metal mongers, men of steal and heat, I suppose they are tied to it.

Across the bay the battleship sits quiet; low and heavy in the water. Her guns point east and west towards the falling and rising sun. Helicopters and jets pass overhead. The wind shifts. I adjust my shotgun and sigh, I’ll be wet with the rain soon.

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All in their own little worlds, time out of place, sitting in their own thoughts reading their own head. Sitting in place staring at the wall or the screen or at space thinking; what are they thinking? Self absorbed all the people in the room are in their heads thinking their thoughts placing beneath themselves all others, placing me down, placing them up. What is the thought you think? Behind that pretty face, that blank stare, that quiet smile? Do you notice me looking at you? Are you thinking what I am thinking? What are you thinking? Awkward moment where our glances meet where our thoughts are there on our faces, quick turn now. You look down I look to the side, I smile at myself, my shyness, my hesitation. I smile at myself and am melancholy, at my lack of moving, I don’t talk to you and then its too late anyway… I sit then in this room by myself as all others are, an island next to islands.

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