Thursday, 26 April 2012

24: Casual Encounters

I wake and I wonder— 
maybe all I have to do
is wallop these keys
with perspiring fingers,

let my vowels
fall like
jittery hailstones,

hack up
a dollop
of thick

There’s a girl
treading the internet’s moss
who has no fear of vines
and creepers.

I try to lure her with
salt and vinegar crumbs
from the sharp metal corner
of the packet, I try to
tempt her with
James Joyce consciousness
burbling like
frustrated brooks.

Elbows dunking
the typewriter,
I know she’ll come

if only
I can make her
understand that

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