Passing on glass fields,
Memories of a past life
Reflected
And then buried
In two coats of repressed paints
A computerized voice calls out to the sea
Serpentine crates
With girders like large faces
Smirk
In utter disregard of what is said
“Do you know how far the willows will droop on pavements previously traveled?”
Neither do I and that is why I ask questions
Nostalgia will be the death of us all!
Remembering what it means to be alive…helps
Sometimes, not all the time though
Simple truths can’t lie
When faced with adversity
I turn the other cheek
Insurmountable hips
My indifference is like the rising water
It envelopes and soothes the fishy part of myself
Do you feel the vein?
A needle helps me eliminate all pretense of feeling
So this bulbous feeling can’t take an inch from me
Numbness.
Predisposed to….
Of whatever I’m used to
And whatever you will provide
Nerve endings sever flighty half-measure
You’re Quarter Drawn
And pavements are spilled with amorphous shapes
The city is like a never ending shape
And I’m it’s homeless
And I’ll wear your pink pants stained with self-consciousness
And I’ll take your pixelated image
But I won’t swirl in its composition
Let the fat warm you, gristle of blankets
And you drink your lemoned iced tea
And I’ll be at your curved thighs
Waiting for whatever is left
…I am whatever you left with me.
© A.R. Minhas 2016
