The Day Is Not the Same. the Day Is Gone.

Over a yellow River of {Drunken} Smiles,
 
A Dove, faded by erasures and weeks
 
suffocating Crashing rotten Joy--- ****** Smell of Arrested Motion
 
Coming swift without Warranty or Return Policy
 
Almost invisible Dusty Distance
 
Crossed in the Span of Half past a Width,
 
The Corner of Oblivion, Bliss 
 
And some terrible cockney Face 
 
Cat Calling
 
Agony.
 
(Who {btw} Doesn’t respond)
 
Suddenly Leering, Voices at our Side---
 
----   “Just the Thing to Clean a Mans Blood”
 
{Pause.}
{Blank Stare.}
 
--------Looking down at Himself
 
              “Damn! That pissing croakers really certified…”
 
{Walking Away}
 
Glad as
 
The Street drowns the Voice like Kittens or Babies
 
(Unwanted)
 
And the Cold finds me, for Some reason
 
{Newly Refreshing}
 
The Hand behind, takes, Fingers Warm
 
And Softer then they aught to Be.
 
Eyes Shining, with Cold elastic Birds dwelling within.
 
Drunk {Sss} miles Leering, from the Shadows, I glance over, 
 
He laughs, (I have no Idea why)
 
And I watch as Erasures, Weeks, Years, Take another swipe of him Away.
 
Just a Memory…
 
Something, 
 
As if Spilling:
 
Some Thin strand
 
 Effete 
 
            Green eye
 
And Silvery, Persistent Honey.
 
 
The Swallow
 
   That even Sleeping, Flying, Lives on my Eyes.
 
{+} or {='s}
 
Decisions bursting Forth, some nocturnal voice, with a shout.
 
{a Dead Dove, With a Number!}
 
I Dial the china Blue Sky and Drifting clouds, fear flickering In and out of my Eyes.
 
(Click) (Words that would, --------then 
 
}go Here)
 
Your voice ripples when I touch it, like a River…
 
No Longer a Bird, I Realize…
 
Nothing but a Sad voice… Rotted by Time.
 
(I Hang Up the Phone)

And then
 
Life... just…
 
 Continues on…
 
-thend-

Copyright © Arthur Flockwhimsy | Year Posted 2008

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