The Country
a white girl in the
country listens to rich black
men in the city
mercedes drug raps
hearken back to simpler times
hatfields and mccoys
· haiku · Posted 25 June 2010, 20:46 ·
Missed Connections
mood: jazzy
Sometimes it hits you,
sometimes it doesn’t.
The backlash of sound
from an oncoming train
harsh winds
blowing the wrong direction.
Was that a smile
in her eyes? as we passed
on the train
amid hustle and bustle and heat
was that love?
then she’s gone
off on errands, see her grocery bags?
she must cook
splendid meals and enjoy
them with fine wine.
Does she peruse
her bookshelf at night,
picking the perfect novel
to read before bed? does she write?
or make art? DOES SHE TWEET?
Maybe she has a website
where she collects
pieces of verse
written on bathroom walls
and rates them, maybe not
maybe she does things
that my little mind
cannot comprehend
but that make the world
a better place.
oh shit, she’s getting off the train
should I say something? speak up?
tell her why I’ve been staring at her
for the past five minutes
as if convinced
she’d disappear if I blink?
Train doors close,
but she turns one last time
and stares me in the eyes
then she winks!
shit fuck goddamnit
I should post
on Missed Connections.
Maybe she’ll see?
· nyc, slam · Posted 25 June 2010, 19:59 ·
Furnace
City streets, sun beats
down on the wintering mind
stuck in silent hibernation,
vision creeps into conscious thought
as I open my eyes
on the scene, bleak white
dream of oasis in concrete drives.
Shelter is nowhere to be found.
Skies bright with midday sounds creep
by like the tick of the clock
as the moon sleeps
past the horizon.
Nothing but a sigh
hotter breath than outside
metabolism, sweat glands burn
in the furnace
my corporeal being.
· nyc, slam · Posted 25 June 2010, 19:39 ·
