The bric-a-brac shop waits on Rue Nationale.
In a sleepy French town.
It opens at ten,
And closes at one,
Till three.
Then on till seven in the evening.
Madame opens the shutters
Before going to feed her little dog,
Hettie.
Hettie's toenails clip clop on the ceramic tiles.
Madame feeds her green beans and tuna from a tin.
Hettie barks.
Madame sits at her counter
And waits for mail.
A customer comes in.
"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour. Ca va?"
A deal is done on a 1920s doll.
Three hundred euros until Christmas.
A good gift for a collector.
But no more customer's today.
All is quiet.
Evening comes.
Hettie barks.
She eats and drinks.
Madame is always kind. Hettie knows.
She clip clops to her basket again.
Madame thinks about her man in England.
She smiles, but no-one sees.
She shuts the shutters and puts out the lights.
Another evening alone with Hettie and the TV.
Her man is waiting. Her man is waiting.
Maria hums to the tune of “Taps” as she scoops out the betta
One red, one blue, Wiggles got ick, now it’s just Padma blue
Doorbell rings, ding dong, Maria rushes to answer, Ahh, Greek feta
The delivery guy left as the maid pounded on the screen, birds flew
This is cheddar, Miss Sparks will be upset, hmmm. It’s okay!
Swooshing sounds from the toilet bowl, as Maria flushes
Tosses the salad, grabs her clanking keys, and drives away
Down the hill, exhales haa, then inhales huh, blood rushes
Nick The Greek’s, an order of the Greek feta salad, to go please
Exits Nicks, enters Finney’s Fish Store. I’ll take that one, that fish
As she points to the red betta splashing, wiggling, stops, in a freeze
Dear Maria, I’m home, bring my salad and a glass of iced tea swish
So, tell me, how was your day, clops off her shoes by her chair
Leaning, back crackling, with Wiggles her red betta nearby
Miss Sparks waits for her maid, then notices Padma’s stare
Maria, why is Padma staring at Wiggles with a glint in her eye?
We decided to take a walk.
If the moon and stars still existed,
they were hidden behind clouds.
Then a fog hit us like a wave, a cloud
that had run out of gas and crashed on us,
to further shrink the perceptible world.
Ordinary, walking people became vague
phantoms that could loom, in film noir
black and white out of the fog,
suddenly sharpen and colorize,
only to disappear again in moments.
Sounds, out of sync, or garbled, came sharply
from odd angles, turning that fifth sense unreliable.
Noises, at first muted, were abruptly amplified as
if the hand of that ghostly vapor ran a soundboard.
A man, moving in stalker-like silence, clops,
like a clydesdale on cobblestone as he passes close.
I half expected a distant fog horn to announce
the passing of a ghost ship where all be welcome.
hands and sands
ticks and tocks
drips and drops
clips and clops
pendulum swings
peals and chimes
lights and blinks
hex and binary digital displays
star gazing for echos from space
watching shadows pass on sun-dials
counting atomic hums
all clock watching is fraught to fail
we can never keep up
for even the matter of time is mortal
hands fall off,
clocks, ticks and tocks get old and stop
batteries run out
time's fate is immortal
ours is time-dependent
it's just a matter of time
just look at the time, now!
Lord, bless us with rain for our fields and crops
Tiny pin drops of water in the dark
Gentle tippy toe taps as opposed to clops
Soaking while receiving no blighted mark
Enkindling life, new growth, greenery moire
Strengthening rootstalk and birthing seedpods
Subtle beauty peeking from the boudoir
Slight breath of wind as stem and leaf applauds
Distant rumbles casting dreams of fortune
Filtered flashes foreshadowing morning
Every being given its due portion
Sunlight greets a good night's sleep adorning
Twilight brightens Your night's gifted labor
We work, we dance to Creation's tabor
Lizard is truth
Lizard is foul
Lizard! You and I are what we are distinctly
Truth or bitter
Freshwater or saline water
It mixes with our life
-in our wounds.
I am tired
thirst for your love
I can not bear this loneliness
When I stop thinking about you
The Lizard run over my head
Why you are making sounds now, Lizard?
If you are happy with her
Give me more pain!
Lizard is truth
Lizard is foul
Lizard! You and I are what we are distinctly
Day passes
My night lengthened
If it is true to life as one wish
Why I became deaf?
Lizard! Stop making false clops
I was standing outside
On a downtown street,
Listening to the sound
Of the people's feet.
A tap tap here,
And a clop clop there;
A tip-tap clip-clop
Everywhere.
Then a scuffle through some leaves,
Feather-scuffling, full of ease,
And a smiling, bright-eyed face
High o'er the shoes.
Up into the sunny skies
She had set her laughing eyes
And she didn't seem to have
A single care.
And the clip-clops ceased to be,
Or at least, inside of me,
As I fixed on her a mighty
Spell-bound stare.
Then I found me in her wake,
It was surely no mistake,
For I followed that gay leaf-flag
In her hair.
It was just a week ago
That I stood a-listening, oh,
And what a glorious seven days
Have passed!
Now I scuffle in my ease
With my scuffler of the leaves,
Two gold rings around our fingers
Tightly cast!
Oh, you tap taps here,
And you clop clops there,
Oh, you tip-tap clip-clops
Everywhere,
I do love you for your sound,
For the girl you brought around,
For the town and street and walking
You make fair!