of course, emotion is procedurally removable
the buildings have their own untouched character
as if fallen from a windstarsweptsky.
last night ¾ moon scudding
if i were in a paper boat wearing
a leaden hat and wide, billowing trousers
the colour of my lover’s once upon time's grey blue eyes.
doctor gazes dreamily at his patient thinking of everything but her. she’s named Magda, which is strange Magda being his wife’s name. he thinks of the newly cut Christmas trees in the market, how his family will decorate the tree set aside for him, his wife Magda teaches the history of alchemy at the local university the Fifth Creature turns savage, hurls itself at the bullet proof glass and yet for all the simplicity there is great care to each melodic turn, each cadence, a blockflute and harpsichord wonderful, melancholic piping, the harpsichord tuning the universe, they chase the Fifth Creature to a dead end street the police in their stomping boots. tsk says the doctor the trains are running late. his patient Magda smiles patiently in the pale sunshine. are you comfortable a voice enquires
shuffles through the bone chill suburbs and out where some horses contemplate contemplation in a soaking field. shuffles in clothes like fallen leaves, blotched, mottled, gonegold bleakyellowbrown. the sky opens to allow a brilliant plume of sun to sway over all that can be seen on the ground. an aeroplane glints above by.
in the 1970s tranquillisers were routinely prescribed to keep suburban lives together. remember the blue ones, Mum? how you loved me and we loved one another and hated so many of the days?
S in the bath. scented oil. join me. then we walked to the park and through fallen leaves, on purpose kicking them up in heaps like when we were children.
everything lasts for ever.