once I used to climb trees
now I find planting
suits my need

Would someone care to classify
A cadaver six feet below.
What if he arose
In the form of a ghost.
Is he a man
Is he a monster.
Is he in the gray which not men nor monsters touch.

Does he have a home
One not so cold.
Could he ever love,
Could he ever trust
Another.

Is he cold,
Or is he warm.
Do you measure that in degrees
Or personality.

Would someone care to measure
His heart.

Fresh caught fish and chips
at the harbor side shop - fog.
Tourists' photograph.

The first thought I
encountered was ,
this poor girl
does not eat.

As our friendship
developed into
more than
I ever imagined
it would
I discovered she
did indeed eat.

When I
say eat
I mean more like
demolished all
that
was presented
before her.

Her sometimes
sickly appearance
was caused
by  the problems
she kept  hidden
behind a
locked bathroom
door.

It seemed the
porcelain hollow
had an appetite
for her insides.

Like a devoted
worshiper
to its Pagan God
she gave up her
offerings after
completing
each and
every meal or
even a snack.

Her sickness
clouded
her image
of herself.

I told her
she was
beautiful.
She called me
a liar and told
me to never
come back.

So I
did'nt.

There's only so
much you can do
for the sick until
they themselves
are prepared to
fight.

Sticks and stones my break my bones
but words may never leave me.

Im caught up in your smile,
    your eyes
Those deep blue eyes
   that captivate me, that keep
        me in a trans.
That make me fear your departure
    that comes closer and closer
As I wish to send you with
       a Goodbye kiss.

I clench the satin tablecloth in my hand.
A slow drone of smooth jazz echoes in the distance.
The fluttering wisps of cigarette smoke waft to the ceiling as my husband steps into the parlour in his tar black overcoat.
"What took you so long?" I ask concernedly.
He just nodded, gave me a lazy grin
and ordered us two gins.

I think it's kind of like Athena sprouting from Zeus's head... they just were.