When the Engine Gave Up.

The train
it’s electric engine
at a 15th century town.

Strangers—graphic men and women
in a state of jubilant festivity
were celebrating something.

flying on the ground
like seagulls
who expertly dance
on the surface of salty waters.

The senile soil
and the snooty flowers
were playing with
the winds and stones.

Some nobler minds
were busy unfurling
their neural wings.

One fellow
adjusting his bum
and attention like
an old grammarian
leapt into the lazy pond
alarming the Koi fish
and native dogs nearby.

While the distant
turbines were quietly
caressing the westerlies,
or trade winds, I don’t know.

took out the wet, medicated
music melody
to put down
my maddening heart
in a sleepy maze.

Published by

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s