The Time Being

27 May

strange
to come into a house that was full of life once
and not find anything growing
even the plants have given up
they look like exhausted barflies at last call;
must’ve been some kind of high temp heat
or change in pressure to-day;
i put the key in and turned
and the metal became almost like playdough;
it just gave and twisted easily and the key came apart in two pieces
only i pulled my end off effortlessly and it left a sharp point
where it disintegrated.
strange
to come into a house that was never quiet,
even at night there were fools haunting the downstairs
the upstairs
climbing the walls
banging pots and pans;
then some fleeting monster leaves a note for me in perfect calligraphy:
“fear is the heart of love”
only i don’t believe that.
i never have.
he has the wrong demographic.
days are now long and light stays into the nine o’clock hour
i used to once like that.
for some odd reason this comes into the grey matter
at early hours of the morning:
“For Sale: baby shoes, never worn”

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6 Responses to “The Time Being”

  1. slyboots2 27/05/2007 at 2:54 PM #

    How the hell are you doing, btw? Hope you are having good things this weekend!

    Just checking in- gotta go watch Monaco on the Tivo.

  2. Lx 27/05/2007 at 5:46 PM #

    i’m well, thanks.
    Monaco, the F1 race?

  3. Anonymous 27/05/2007 at 6:37 PM #

    “For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”
    That, my friend, is the perfect example of the Iceberg Theory. Hemingway rocked it and to this day people are baffled how easy it seems…until you start writing.
    J

  4. slyboots2 27/05/2007 at 9:07 PM #

    Monaco- the somewhat boring F1 race. Sigh.

  5. Janete 28/05/2007 at 5:09 AM #

    Great poem, like the rythm, the pace …very evocative !

    well done :)

  6. Lx 28/05/2007 at 10:10 AM #

    thanks janete; it’s not really a poem…don’t know what you’d call this–but it doesn’t much matter.

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