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A familiar pattern embraces me once more.
The clatter of shoes on a concrete universe,
The frustration in the race to be first plain to see.
As the harassed hordes make their way to daily toil.

You don't know me.

Our paths collide in the summer sizzle,
Brains full of caffeine and subservience to The Man.
I notice your incredulous stare, crumpled mouth,
Looking as though you wish to see right through me.

You will never understand the real me.

My smile is an enigma to you,
The joy is very real, despite how it appears,
I've been a poet of eloquence for the last decade,

We gathered bark
cracked tender trunks:
Flecks of wood splintered alpine air.

Over crumbly ground we traisped
Slid stones from their spot
Built a campfire: A Raging Teepee.

Scorched fingers and toes
Bodies turned;marshmallows charred
Penetration of heat on flesh, sugar and bone.

I shuddered at the silence
The glowing murmur of our enclosure
The Roar of Waterfall.

Mopping up beans
I watched the sky
dismantle the moon

The fire twindled, like our conversation
The funnelled blue light of headlamp
and beyond, blackness.

Tall trees bent inwards

Whirlwinds whirl like winds whirl,
And wind whirls like whirlwinds
But why can’t wind wind the whirlwind
Instead of the whirlwind winding the wind?

If whirlwinds didn’t wind the wind like whirlwinds wind,
Then winding winds wouldn’t be of this world,
Not would wind want to whirl,
Or whirling would want to wind

But wouldn’t whirlwinds want to wind the wind like whirlwinds wind?
And wouldn’t the wind want to be wound by whirlwinds like whirlwinds are wound?
Perhaps the wind wouldn’t want to whirl the wind like wind is whirled?

She entered, a fresh face, full and unseen,
A stranger to us all, yet also known,
Wearing a red robe, a bit like a Queen,
Clinging tightly around her, having once flown,
And stood in the centre of the large room,
Retaining a still posture, tall and straight.

We stood behind easels and fairly soon,
As promptly as always and never late,
Our teacher arrived dressed in purple
Clothes which were stained with colour; red and blue
And black and said, “This is your life model
For today’s class, a great model for you,
So choose your medium.” And as we chose

You don't know me.
Our paths collide in the July sizzle,
In complete silence.
The only thing of note
Is a smile,
My trademark Mona Lisa smile.

I've seen my name in print and lights,
Lost precious ones along the way,
Battled through childhood traumas
Of bullies and bad health,
To emerge eternally victorious,
With quiet grace and dignity.

Overcame addictions to alcohol and wild livin',
Not apparent in the way I amble by.
Met some real celebrities, not the ones in Heat,
Got up on stage regularly to state my case,
Fought for the vulnerable who struggle.

We collected twigs; shavings of bark
dragged fallen trunks - jumped
down til you cracked; like splintered teepee’s.

We traipsed, heaved stones
marking the spot where we found you
Hung up our socks, dripping from melted snow.

Began to build our campfire, one by one
we slid in our sticks, blowing into the heat
scorched toes and fingers.

Huddled together, stirring beans
turning our bodies; marshmallows
the penetration of heat, on fleece
flesh; sugar and bone.

Filled our flasks by the waterfall
sludged back through snow
the faint blue light of headlamps.

See I got above the Grade Point Average but they wasn’t hiring
And Martha didn’t get it & Dolores didn’t get it
So we filled in the Panther form, paid the subs and look at this!

Mama don’t like the chain belt around my waist
But I like it, it’s a reminder where we been from
Where, without this, we could return to

And I got no problem looking right at you, I could be looking
At any old flea chasing mongrel. I still got my nails, still wearing
My Maybelline, still got a sweet ring from Emory on my finger

And this hair was picked to perfection this morning:

In my dream, I couldn’t find my coat
I walked back along all the streets we’d been.
Charles Aznavour showed up, ready to croak
I said va t’enculer Chaz, go gargle Listerine

or at least look. We searched street after street
People sat and laughed at us. The road was awash
with puppies, some of which became my feet.
I gave up, sat, Chaz got going with his lyrical cosh.

Then not only you roll up in this ridiculous pink Allegro.
You step out, wearing my coat. Damn. You wear it well well.

Blossom flocks to consecrated corners
kissing gravestones and the feet of park benches
blessed by shadows of evening light

And

Pilgrims of praying bluebells, along the roadside
under shrubs; up paths to homes:

Held by a cuckoos chorus
sending you into serene sleep.