Sit on Stone
Could be that the first rule,
is not set in stone, but written on tablet,
where you reach out, shove past, grab it,
send one of your numbers to the pool,
wait impatient, stand by locked gates
or sit, whilst your others gather
to watch, awaiting whatever their fate
like Hawks, no, not that, that's wrong,
Herring Gulls, throng and flock in ugly song
to squark metallic, streaked grey blue
like a synthesized overhead overcast sky,
and 'will it rain' complain your bowels
as you sit touching cloth, rehearsing chilblain
because wet concrete is hard.
Metal on metal but not Kraftwerk
or anything near unique, no no,
here’s your first berk, pushing past,
gathering his loungers while he may,
tossing towels from his dragged truck,
about other chuckers gives not a fuck,
but come you faithful, come one, come all,
these sides of pool make you seem small
underneath her sickly fevered plastic palms,
and the piper calls the tune. Eurobeats,
transfixed by your own, your others sweaty feet,
something flits fleeting across your mind
but what it was is gone, impalpable, fades,
flip open phones, suck straw, put on shades,
stare gormless into limp flat lemonades
like stones, and from fear of losing rank,
you guard against attackers from either flank.
No comments:
Post a Comment