the who's who's
the ties and suits
the black and white
the stripes, the sleuths
the egocentric
tall, concentric
parts of us parade
eccentric
through the cities
in the minds
we make ourselves,
for only ourselves
on streets we walk alone,
in need of truth.

On my way to post a letter
Out my car Windows
I saw a grammar
Make a dash across the road
In an effort to be punctual
To a function at the TAB.
I skidded my car to a full stop,
Lost control in her direction,
Not in time to avoid my space-bar
I dashed over to find
She was in a comma!

Hit with a forward slash
It was a capital offense
I could not escape
Yet I was bold,
Tensely outlined the events
They docked a dot point
off my pen licence
and after bringing me before the keyboard
Sentenced me to a short spell
In a prison pen
(as it was just a lower case).

Entering the ward,
I paged the shift nurse
After her line break
‘- Would she wake?’
As it turns out her back space
Will have question marks
But her chances are greater-than most
Her progress is fontastic
For her age bracket
But her colon was disturbed -

She may have trouble
                                       with
                                                    her
                                                               vowels.

you forget
you are a poet
and accidentally
make sense