Chameleon

I change in contrast

to the place I claim.

 

I’m a converse chameleon,

dressed up in anti-camouflage.

 

I’m right here exposed to all the offerings

of yours, which you did not know you had until

 

you saw me

in the crowds;

sticking out.

Advertisements

and movies don’t

it could have been a one-shot,

a picture perfect take:

 

wide striped pants and plain white shirt

running towards his scented neck,

sunlight blushing in the face

of how blue-eyed they are

 

tipsy, even, turning tables

breathing words or gasping for,

water color painted futures

is that why they shed no tears?

 

red wine flooding fairy lights

hand on neck and hands in curls,

jumping up, it’s time to leave

the tension in the dark

 

flying through the streets at night,

someone’s bedroom to be clear,

they choose bridges over boundaries,

that look like railway tracks indeed,

 

turning onto Ossian Road,

confusing promises and cheeky jokes,

she laughs and won’t believe,

what difference would it make?

 

Still, there is a chance:

that their performance

feeds on purity —

and movies don’t.

22

By February 22nd, we would face our:

fingertips like words,

manifestos we could write,

liquids wrapped in tissues,

velvet temples to inhale,

lost keys to open doors,

redundant gears in knee-deep snow,

sofa beds for sleepless nights,

furniture to push and hidden limits, too;

haunting voices when there’s radio silence,

clogged noses in shared space apart,

night flights away, seasons reversed,

peroxide-stubborn hair,

cuts, punctures and incisions,

light feet and heavy tongues,

droughts before day zero,

and  rains that come to send me

home.

white cars

Sometimes, fear is a white car.

Sometimes, fear blinds you with headlights.

Sometimes, fear comes to a halt one inch before your knees.

Sometimes, fear chases you through residential roads at night:

The bumps, the willow trees, the locked-up gates.

Sometimes, fear has its engines fade

into the breaking dawn.

 

And sometimes, when the sun lights up

The bumps, the willow trees, the locked-up gates,

You find that you’re turning your head.

There are too many white cars out there.

when Betty called him Al

Although Paul Simon’s song

was just about to play

We closed the door behind

our backs – and walked away

into the drizzly rain.

Perhaps it was right then

that I could cease to look

for reasons that would justify

my presence in your life,

and just be there instead.

Perhaps it was right then

that I could find in you,

My friend, my long-lost pal,

as Al can call her Betty

and Betty calls him Al.

‘innocent’

in·​no·​cent | \ˈi-nə-sənt

from Latin innocentia,

that denotes no ‘harm‘,

as well from Latin nocere,

‘injuring‘ someone,

or anyone involved.

 

blameless with integrity,

upright and disinterested,

lacking guilt or artifice

like a child,

protected and naive.

 

surely free

from legal wrong,

free from guilt and

free from sin,

with candid lack of knowledge,

 

I declare you are:

ingenuous, artless, ignorant

of the evil you have caused

of the guilt we’re all incapable

to blame you for.

Watershed

It

Might

As well be a

Watershed moment,

Since I like to dive deep,

Always, until I can hardly breathe

Until I can hear my heartbeat: Loud and clear.

The key

Three keys are lying

In the clean and empty

Kitchen cupboard,

Ready to be taken away

By the lady who’s

Checking the flaws,

Our flaws, the ones

We did our best to wash away

Four days in a row,

With acid and with baking soda.

Three keys aligned,

Three keys, not four:

My key had slipped

Through the hole of

My white tweed coat

Some time, long ago.

Maybe I’ll find

That missing one.

Then I would sneak

Through this door

That will lead

To a life

Which won’t be ours anymore.

The photos on the wall

Won’t show you or me or

Anyone we know.

The air won’t smell

Of the cinnamon granola

I made the day before.

You won’t be lying

Asleep on the sofa bed,

Waiting for me

To wake you up.

And still,

I might be keeping that key.

Just because

It once opened and 

Shut our world.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑