My Lonsdale Cap.
I found my Lonsdale cap.
It was scrunched between the passenger seat and door.
But it’s okay now.
I’ve pummelled out the dents.
I wish it were that easy to pummel out mine.
Life isn’t a car crash.
It’s a series of dings
and plain old wear and tear.
My car smooched a green fence post once
while doing a tight turn. Some of the green glows
through the matte grey like an early Spring.
It’s bright outside today, high UV reading.
I’m putting on my snazzy Lonsdale cap
so I don’t get sunburn
& my kiss curl doesn’t get blown around
I’m walking down the corridor
in my zig zaggy socks
just me and my sturdy side kick.
I admire how slender, sturdy he is.
I like his bling though it’s not the sort
I would covet.
His face I like, its open and informative,
the moving lights that run across his lips
showing someone is home,
that I’m being monitored.
Hey! I’m here for you.
Walk on brother,
I’ve made the place neat and tidy just ramshackle enough
so it looks lived in
*pic courtesy of pinterest
To the uninitiated , mysterious as
the moon monoliths in 2001 ;
pensioned off light-houses ? a giant’s
apartment house or a giant
phallus set in cement , a reminder
to the young colony —
populate or perish ? they come in
all shapes and sizes ; rise
suddenly from the landscape like
mushrooms with their long
stalks and caps yet exist singly —
it is houses that cluster
around them ; scattered around the
countryside they are tall
as wheat silos though their bellies
seem full of water
but why windows — for fish to peer
through ? or doors — what if
someone should break in ? only the tops
hold water , I am told ,
like a water tank on a stand ; largely
redundant , now they are
being sold off like unwanted churches ;
yet I consider them ,
their brief reign ; for me they always
held more than water
- pic courtesy of Wikipedia
Thank you, Lord
to rip into
this egg and bacon muffin
for taste buds
to savour it
& for the senior’s coffee
To wash it down
to fuel me up
for the morning ahead
There’s a miniature submarine lurking
at the bottom of the aquarium .
It is smooth and black with feathery gills .
It is an axolotyly .
We call him Axle , of course .
Most of the time he just hangs around
amongst the water weeds .
Perhaps he’s lonely and depressed .
But every now and then
he rouses himself
and cruises around as if on patrol .
The other fish give him right of way .
Perhaps he thinks he really is a submarine
on an important mission ,
keeping the waters safe for democracy ,
for instance .
Sometimes when he cruises past the sides
of the tank
I give him the thumbs up .
It seems to give him a lift .
- pic courtesy of wikipedia