APHRODISIACAL ART FORM

train

Take-away debatable coffee from a conglomerate

thinking idly of a people’s revolution one day soon

the contradiction lost on him, the butterfly thinker

passes a busking accordionist, wants to be in Paris

notes streetwise pigeons seem to have lost the art of flying

meandering this way and that in a ‘no daffodil’s yet’ spring

would one day evolution afford them the Dodo’s sad fate?

mist of fine drizzle robs his spectacles of causational purpose

 

would be hunter gatherer arrives home, she hears him not

busy, engrossed, watering can in one hand, fine spray the other

in the bay window she is nourishing the potted house plants

just a tee-shirt and a bare bum back view, aphrodisiacal art form

he lingers in her private moment much, much longer than needs be

taking in the view, mind drifting toward a different kind of uprising

shelves that idea, regardless, she says, “Hurry up or we’ll be late”

 

railway train tickets weighed and paid, she joins him on board

he takes the window seat; she has her nose in an Agatha

he remembers the day she drunk him under the table

no old flame on fire happenstance, wilting forget-me-not’s

permanent scars affirm history, time bombs and too many cigarettes

the train pulls to a halt; all is well, they transfer to breakneck Eurostar

Gare du Nord next stop, caffeine hit put on hold for now, all is well

 

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45 thoughts on “APHRODISIACAL ART FORM

  1. I think you left out the verse about the stint in rehab.
    Yeah, strange how these pigeons are just fearless nowadays. I remember when you would stamp your foot and they’d go running. Now just a precursory flap of the wings and it’s like ‘Oh, just a stupid human again!’ Squirrels too! Do you know I once stamped my foot at a squirrel to get it away from my daughter and it turned and hissed at me?

      1. That is probably the most frightening thing I’ve ever heard! Rabid squirrels! Yikes! In the building where I used to be there were rabid bats. They would swoop over the pool while we were swimming in the broad daylight.

      1. Donovan hamster doing cover versions? Jose Feliciano and Cliff Richard all in the same gig! You’ll not the last of this I can tell you. That said, I have an imaginary friend called Svetlana yet the less said the better on a pre-watershed blog (do they exist?). As ever the best of good fortune Ms Shehannemoore and Ms Cavendish also (may the blessing of the literary God be upon you and your book sell in shedloads)

      1. Laughing whole heartily at my pre-Agatha-description ‘an’, now within this context. Whoopie daisy!

        Right, gotcha.

  2. I don’t mind pigeons and have had one or two conversations with them. Gulls, on the other hand, who rightfully get no mention in your great verses, screech in a rude and invasive manner and often steal the food I have carried out to feed the ducks. I like pigeons but I don’t like gulls!

      1. Presently I’m whinging about the one on my knee…car door; high wind; my knee. Not allowed to speak of it here as she says she’s run out of sympathy no less! Cheek of it…I did try to explain that women don’t know pain like chaps do though.

      2. Oh that was the wrong thing to say.

        How’s this- you should run some of your comments by the women here to keep from getting more bruises.

        The only trouble is that some of them will be on her side.

      3. You will have guessed I jest. Women are better creatures than men and I would happily, this very instance hand over global power to them…save for Thatcher of course…I’m sure she was a bloke in drag.

      4. I don’t know- that seems like a hefty order. I think we are good at some things and not so much at others. Maybe sharing is wise.

        I would say that there are times men make poor decisions because they do not think a woman’s opinion worthy of consideration

      5. I honestly believe that us chaps…testosterone charged and all that…are the cause of ruination of both planet and our own species. It is time, long overdue that women in all societies, far and wide were given the freedom to make the key decisions…as mum does with small child, woman should do with the world about us. Couldn’t be any worse than what us blokes have failed at thus far. Gosh that sounds like a rant yet it isn’t! The older I get my adoration of your own ‘species’ gets stronger and stronger.

    1. Guess she wouldn’t mind, but I can’t help myself sometimes…we’ve been married 19 years today and I forgot yet was still forgiven…mind, I shall be spending aplenty on her in the morn!

      1. Cheers, if I die this very day the one thing I can say that Shirl and I have never been anything other than in love…I am truly blessed as you say.

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