London and Mouses
Victoria couch station does not go
To sleep.
It's not even a one third of an aesthetic
But poets make frogs into princes so
...
I see the becoming in change. The
Comfort of being taken to a
Known destination not needing
To know the way.
It happens only in travels like that.
I see the becoming in repetition. A
Man sweeping the floor yet another time.
He is watching people like mouses.
Running
About their business not knowing
Why.
A constant of life in a place as busy as an
Ant house.
This place does not go to sleep. Lights colour it's windows
To scare away the ghosts of rest.
Stillness is a demon unable to possess.
A mouse, after mouse, after mouse. But what happens when
A mouse snaps out
Of this ?
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