Sunday, September 27, 2009

Trying company (1999-2001)

I watch the clouds, and fit company they are.
Hesitant, wondering whether to part, to yield to that above,
Or, to remain, in a sullen pout with dark cheeks just a little wet.

But there is the whole world to see, I have been told,
And so I watch.
Like the clouds above me,
But no, not in that vein again.
At first, I try out the reflections but I see myself and I do not wish to, not even I.
It is no crime to look, I am told,
But one never knows when it will be.

Across the aisle, in my row, is a blonde whose tresses cover her study.
When she came, relaxed, letting go of the load, sighing,
Her legs stretched and apart, fingers strumming her knees, eyes closed.
But she had to sit up, cross her legs, and from a black bag came notes to save.

Before me, by the door, stand a couple, close but closer they can be.
Whispers, kisses and looks well-known. They even give zwei marks to a beggar.
She has a dark line carefully drawn on her lips, thin they are but enough for him.
The station arrives, he pats her bottom, to push off to another scene.

A bunch of kids block my view. With earphones on, before they try louder giggles.
A petite nymph for a boy, pimple in one hand, the other lunging for her flesh.

There is the usual company, a lady in a brown coat, hair in careless girlish scatter,
Forty or fifty, who cares, she could be twenty for me, but wait a moment,
I wonder why she stares out, blank to the world, hurt and licking her wounds.

I am tired with company, for they make my loneliness pain even more.
No, I am told, try for a little longer.
It gets better with time.

A woman, grey-specked hair, but with no wrinkle upon her face, a mother,
I suppose, with a bag but nowhere to go, and there is a smile on her face. So peaceful.

And how did I miss him? A lad, little jerky, munching on a grey sandwich,
Glancing at me, others, everyone, interested, amused, and with a smile on his face.

I am scared. I turn to my clouds. Scared to smile. Or cry. Scared to be crazy.

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