A hot, earthy echo scrawls
across the seashore
wheels across the chaos
We chance contact
act, retract
chase reason
cannot see treachery
We always consent to stay near
then choose the alleyways
a chance to score on street corners
screw loosely
orchestrate the senses
let neon shatter heartache
~ ~ ~
The psychic said
everyone else races past
but you stroll
look at flowers
talk to animals
I said
I knew you were going to say that
~ ~ ~
At the fulcrum of the scales
is a small cabin Visitors' Centre
where you can get a cup of bad machine tea
look at the displays
pictures of the construction of the scales
and have a chat with the bored Tourist Officer
who puts on a brave face