edit: there's a revised version with some additions on page 2 (word document).....Please read the revised version first. grrr WORD is playing tricks on me. If you have trouble opening the attachment, PM me and I'll try to send it to you by e-mail or something
Blurred colours swish by,
slowly gain edges as the carousel stops
pink horses, fire engines and giant swans
there’s a scramble, people rushing to pick their car.
I hang back by the popcorn stand and wonder
“Should I take a ride?”
A horse has four legs, a chair is for sitting
and if you piece enough of these tiny
bricks of meaning together,
you’ll understand.............. MAN.
or so the Greeks said,
but it seems they forgot about the mortar,
and what shape the edifice should be.
I still hang back and shuffle.
Everyone’s packed their suitcase
and gone on a journey, a long holiday,
at the resort of self-searchers,
free towels included,
to find this thing of which they don’t know what it is
but are sure must be there.
And they tell me I must come along,
but at best, I can manage a quest for a quest,
a walk to the station to buy a ticket, if you will,
but I don’t think I wanna go,
maybe I’ve already been there.
Maybe I found myself in a saggy extra bed in London,
2 a.m. at the hotel, after a dinner of organic yoghurt and melons
and my not so bright friend’s insomniac monologues:
different types of cancer, studied them all when grandpa died,
can you love two men at a time,
this is where the trialogue began
S.: “No! Make up your mind.”
Me: “Sure, why not? Love is an emotion.”
My friend: “I love him, but I admire the other.”
If and but and should I and then on to the issue of cats
and mums and regimented life in villages
in general and in particular, hers, but she wouldn’t
want to live in a city, because of “the anonymous life”,
which she spotted in the shape of an old lady,
from the window of a coach the minute
we entered London.
Because the lady was old, she must be lonely,
and because she’s lonely the city is baaaaaaaaaad.
I tucked up the sheets. At least these nightly contemplations
did not involve beauty products.
Why is it everyone talks about hair spray on a Geography trip
when they should be……….
“They’ve got All You Can Eat at Pizza Hut!”
“I want to buy this wicked top, can we go to Camden tomorrow?”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Eheeehhhaaahaaa”
”Aaaargh, 25 Geographers and no-one
made any observations!”
Quote: exasperated prof swigging coffee in a park on the Thames.
Maybe one of the times I found myself
was in in a sagging extra bed at 2 a.m.,
for the sake of laughter-lined professor eyes squinting at the Heathrow planes
that crossed the bluest sky England’s had in a hundred years,
“There’s one every minute.”
I woke up at 2 and the yellow light between my eyes was
competing with that of the street lamp. Sirens. Dustbins.
I knew.
Myself is what’s left
when all the other options don’t work.
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Originally Posted by SleepyWitch
I'm glad you like him. he is really sweet, but also strict in a very funny way 
