cooking dancing fucking

i have a pool too

swimming

nice

i’m on its steps in the shallow end
watching a plane cut through the sky

(the sun lighting up its vapour trail)

thirty thousand feet and climbing

a selection of beverages and snacks being served

love
death
sex

other matters of circumstance

it only takes a few minutes for the cafe to fill up
then everyone starts yelling at each other

a cacophony of caffeine induced questions

what do you do?

such an american question.

i listen to the sound of the breeze

(but not too strong i hate the wind)

push a rainfall of soft
rice paper thin petals

down from the trees

i stand stall beside thick trunks of bark in a well tailored suit

waiting for love

i drink gin in two ounce servings

this is what i do