A day of anti-pasto
Of chillied mussels and evil thoughts.
Walking the streets I was mad with thirst.
I saw the face smiling at me from across the street,
A genuine smile, of genuine gladness.
The unusual niceties revealed strained affairs,
I drove off huffing.
Lazy. I’ve been slack
With phone calls, emails, in stance, with my bedroom.
Inertia – like a sleepy cloud fogging up my train of thought.
Inactivity – a likely consequence of the above.
Bored. A result of overkill.
Ubiquity – of gaudy prints, pastels, and a part of every blah-trendy 20-something’s assemble.
All I want are red ballet shoes.
I don’t dance but I can prance.
A week of piercing irritability.
Undisguised frowns, silent dinners.
We’ve sat side by side,
Digesting the heaviness of the day.