the pink and blue bleed into each other
there is not a point where either start or end
just where the sun burns past lowslung clouds
and after staring for a while,
a pattern casts, trailing with my blinking eyes
lifting and falling like life under a microscope
as I run my gaze across the horizon.
it’s nice to stop here
on the corner amidst the sea of people
pushing past to home.
darting through i notice no one looking up
lightning lets lines frame frowns
then eyes lift as mouths open,
fleeting fireworks from me to you.
the good news is,
i’m almost there.
all beginnings are applications
of some description
when you don’t know how long what you have been watching
has been the home shopping channel
morning tv fades out
midday lingers as the day is drawn from the deck
an all day agenda fades in
paperwork to make a home
jumping through hoops
we’re up to our hips
i think of everything i have to meet the criteria
remembering shreds of paper, lies & life
i contemplate every humane distraction
do i really need this machine?
am I insulted by the depiction of this demographic, namely me?
i’m too tired to tell &
i’ve spent too long on this couch
you don’t give up,
try not to lose the fight
to realise they’re not playing the same game
you’re ready to call checkmate.
when they play,
don’t call us, we’ll call you.