In the backseat of your Audi, the three o clock shadow
slants across your face like a threat, makes you look
dangerous. Makes you look
interesting.
So what do you do?
I tell you
I write.
What does that mean?
It means walking into a crowd and getting lost in your head. It means finding loose change in your heart.  Means the world is your dysfunctional, perpetually disappointed, ailing mother. Means this isn't going to last.

But all you see is a silver smile.

Just look at the wind out there
it isn't half blowing a gale just now
but at least there's a blue sky
and fluffy white clouds
just floating by
the weeping willow
is swinging in tune to the wind
the leaves on the trees are rustling
as they blow in the breeze,
The bamboo is waving too,
But at least the sun is shining through
and the rain has gone for now
but as the branches bough
and the trees bend down low
the wind is quite ferocious just now!

They are louder these days
More insistent
Increasingly desperate
Three sirens heading
Into the city.
Must be the virus!
What are people dropping
Dead in the street now?
Did they close the centre off
Just after I'd walked
Through it?
And then oh joy
As the fire engines,
Not ambulances
Screech around the corner.
Better to burn to death quickly.

To entertain
means to be starkers
and dance with veils,
to exoticize war
and tremble in
a thousand rhythms.
Bejeweled as a spy,
nevertheless,
don't know why.
Eye of the day,
and a dozen matchlocks
had me inertly settle
upon my knees,
before bending at my waist
to take one last look
at the fiery heavens.