Study their faces, a change from their greying bald heads.
A whiff of longing blew in my face. The smell of salt floated against me, almost in reply.
Beautiful chaos in the distance, the mind's clear eye wanders far amongst hillocks and tree tops and white-clad murmurs.
A single strand of red-brown hair is on her face and she doesn't know what I know
she doesn't believe it
she believes any lie
gullible, naive. Human fallacy?
It is but a scratch on her.
Leaky faucets and empty places.
The tap is still leaking, too loose.
The handle attached too tight. The sad contradiction resulted in unclean hands for the majority of my stay here. Blood-stained hands, again.
The view is eaten up by cement and steel and smoke and the incessant loud cry of a demanding infant ugh.
The lizards still live here, ten generations more evolved; the moss more populous than ever.
My haven reeks of neglect. I have to stop calling it that, it isn't one any more. I'm a nomad, a solitary buoy in the vast pacific.
The neighbor's grandniece's best friend's in-law's gardener now stays there.
No shortcuts home, no happiness, only development.
Leaky faucets and forgotten embraces.
I'm sorry Diva sorry about it all sorry that I loved you sorry that I lied I hate lying why do I lie I'm sorry about the way I always tried
fake smiles and endless gossip kept me away
and now you are gone forever.
I'm asking for your help; I'm going through hell; only the sound of your voice - the tinkle of your laugh over twelve-year old humour can save me now.
presumptuous snorts and scooty rides
a breath of fresh air traded for all the air in the world
none as fresh
as your breath
so fresh as that summer morning
the second glorious haze of fifteen days
that went by just as fast and unnoticed as the first.
And things to do, and places left to go to yet
I don't have any tickets
Exuberance and hope is all fine when you know what you want.