Yesterlunchtime
In a glow
( and she has my handwriting, I have hers,
" i define a human so:
you read that 6.27 Reader, and if at story end, you arent blubbing all the tears of a dead
polluted sea
you wouldnt Be the ' human' for me")
That wasn't meant to happen
We speak and despite her closing sign
dangling to sever all our talk so clever
she lingers
She must know,
i notice, her reticence to clockwatch and off you go.
So i go.
One day
At last! the lazy fuckers restocked
the paupers' pantry
Petrol paid for, over here
Walking back to atchin tan....
I saw her drive past,
my large 'shopping' bag in hand
Two "humans" facing one and other
.... fuck me you ( now) just seen The Sublime, in action the cherky runt
as stuck up Oxford fellow Babb - world authority
on it but he could not finish book 3,
stuck
said to me
2019 " i cannot get the last words for what it is
except ' it recreates itself every day ..'..."
then the sour old self obsessed man
not before time
passed away.
looking up ' what is the name of the place a joust occurs?'
" i love that: jost, in Frog.. or bigword, hastilude
sounds fabulously rude"
But what about the place, arena?
There we were facing each other
oncoming,
towards each other
A narrow street, me by feet
Her protected in her armoured car
No one else...
I saw her turning into the road
assuming long gone homeward
to the husband " he never reads.."
Perfect, all i want is she sees me stood fully back up straight
marching on, a battle gait
( because we spoke of " keep on fighting, what ARE the books?!")
but i want her to see an ordinary person, too: ' shopping' bag, simple fayre for my plate
There are times when
The end of my crusade, i know she knows
its me,
And i knew her,
her numberplate already in my memory
and no one can accuse me of active lingering, a normally busy walkby street,
just the thing!
for total anonymity
But none, in this ' now'
no one else
Her misty window, and mizzle prettending, too,
to rain
i can pretend, we are strangers,
i'm not one to carwindowgaze like the native morons
nothing better to do than gossip and be in'human'
Pefect, i played that round, as a king ... Joster Supreme
I saw her, sizing up my gait,
but she thinks she was in her armour, unseen
And the next round of the timeless jost, can wait
Happiness, is knowing the kairos gods came along and put me there, then, for this perfect song
But whats it called!? that meeting place
hastiltude, bloody mouthful, jost, word perfect, but the place?
that time immemorial lonely last
alleyway, only two "human"s in the whole of Christendom exist
One will live,
the other pierced upon a metal Pole
i have never known such a perfect word picture,
in one unexpected morning, ends in this ' now'...
And even more genius strategy: pretend..
she isnt there
In the only two "human"s' fcaing each other.. usually busy, road
we are not josters,
but merely two book readers sharing brighteyed enthusiasm, who know of nothing... of or in real
" human" life...
( even if she didnt blink " but my list.... fighting on, life affimation all very well.. but ...you gotta have crazed bonkers ' love' in there too, as nowt else worth livin on FOR.... Gabriel Garcia ... the king of that... the homo Solitude book, everyone else harps on about, bonkers sick, old hat..
nahh... Florentino, my man..!! gets his 'bird' in the end")
But then.. just digressing
why so exhausting
One Day
two
" birds"
hatching
number two
two minutes
" shall we go for a walk then...i know the real secluded paths
an axe murderer could do with me anythin' he wanted to,
( yes loadsa London drugmad relocated psychos even here!)
but as i too was raised mountain goatin' the hills of N Wales
i not afriad of a wimp like you...
anyway Dex, though small, and seemingly chilled,
you assume
hes trained to savour jugular stew "
...
too much, One day, two real
" birds" requires nine hours sleep
The only living in the actual Power of Now there ever was..
....
Now, todawn.... whats the word for the place?
two josters facing each other face to face...
one may not make it Be yond this today
final meeting place
So Be it... the way of silly man
ferrets just kidnap
even their best freind for the rest of the year, happy bedmate helpmeet snuggly warm bestest two per woodburner friend
but come the ' smell' of sping is here
... two days kidnapped rapee hell
for her beneath
his locked jaw "never lettin YOU go...!"
until the job is done properly
its just mating, all the varying forms, here there, animal, weird us.... here...
here, so whats that word...
the ultimate maybe even last face to face
place?
.....
ferk me Jeffry Babb you old rogue
at least you did know, a sublime must be BODILY...
no mere notion, for showing off in wanky one dimensional Fakebook, society
We exchanged lists, and ..
only two people know there is no crowd
behind the ropes of that maybe last meeting place
who could Understand .. the thoughts of two " human"s, lingering, exchanging whatervering... her turn, next....
took us next, face to ( my deliberately, just turned aside) face....
i know no better word picture to describe the moment...
But whats it called that narrow josting strip?
really, it should Just be called
only two sets of eyes in the universe exist
one may soon not
ferkin Oggle what a muddle
fingerin variants in s twoddlr
oh my god! those naughty Sublime division
of the hollogram designers
gone and made me, feel what only " human" can....
a shiver and a visceration all in one
its a ferkin
list
