Awkward again,
only two people friends in the crowd, so
phone out again…

& if you listen a little too much just now;

the sounds burst free & blend together,
then splinter into circus images,

a series of moving shapes
mutating through malleable fluid,

forming warm silhouettes that sway
& swing beneath the false-warm sodium heather
of city-night plains that stretch out forever but
never reach the permanence horizon.

Filled with all the ugliness of
a failed lover demanding perfection
from moments of small prettiness,
we each play in the spectacle,


I think maybe I could be
overthinking this a little bit.

back from the bar; one hand gives a bottle
as two jaws move up & down & although I know that
speaking is being attempted, still the strange
is in their mouths as well

but then,
as always:
the change comes, colour
returns, the walls
retreat & the sound begins

to make sense again.


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