north-american possums! work fatigue grouses; singaporean; ex-poet and writer; former convent girl; converted, convicted and painfully quiet; bibliophilic; skyscrapers; weather-talk; dining alone on sashimi; your life with Jesus; banging heads with problems; looking from afar; loving my xiongmao; peanuts & anchovies; battlestar galatica; novella dreams and paranoai: holding onto you.

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Tuesday, September 10, 2002

a gray hour,
an hour long bus ride through the
swelling suburbs swept through
my soul.
you are on the bus and suddenly
the doors to your mind bang shut.
you feel the old lady bobbing up and down
on her seat; her arm knocking gently at
yours wrapped around books.
but you do not see her.
and you do not see the books.
the wind screen swamped by blurred visions
swaying from side to side
hypnotises you.
You vaguely remember the sensation of
flesh pressing against your bare arms
and the fingers that curled around
hard edges. But it is a dream dreamt by
even the least, and a thought that separates
the soul from the body.
You do not protest to the subjugation
that is imposed upon your mind
and suddenly looking out of the window,
everything takes on a shade of gray
even though it isn’t raining.
The people merely walk and go their way.
The traffic lights blink and the cars move.
The jackfruit, a bulbous and hideous growth of
Sleek tree trunks and you feel
the simmering of a tremulous thought,
too weak to slip a vine over the garden wall,
a small fist beating against a vacuous space.
powerless to free you,
in the end, only your mechanical limbs
signal your stop and set you
on your way home, at last.

posted by happyhannon at 10:38 PM