Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Circus Shoes

Today I spoke to a man who reminded me of a Pinball Machine.
Maybe a car that’s running out of gas.
Take comfort in the jerks and hold your tongue.
It’s the effort that counts.
Two ears. One mouth.

A patchwork T-shirt can make your life a moment.
If you don’t comb your hair, there’s always a chance.
Fifty bucks spent on a roadside children’s classic.
A discard from Lynndale School Library.
Circus Shoes. Go on, run away from home.

Milk and bananas. A monkey. A snake?
Creating a need. Weaving a story.
Italian seasoning. A cheese burst pizza. He’s in love with turmeric.
Food critic. Head-chef.
When we’re hungry, love will keep us alive.

Habitat centre. Membership for two.
Or should you be my guest? Or should I be yours?
That photograph on Orkut. Just the two of us.
Rachel and Monica. Aniston and Cox.
The cat under the bench. We stared at each other.

Open the gate. Or let me do it myself.
Don’t hesitate. Don’t smile. It’s just a few steps.
Find me online. Give me a quiz.
Tell me something I don’t know. Download my songs.
It’s okay to be a rival. Congratulations.

Lights inside the gym.
I made you run. I made you walk.
Two tablets and water.
A long drive and a baby.
I’m reading a book. I’m wearing my shoes.

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