his loudspeaker thinking
shot through my eye
as he passes me in the crowded room
its over-speed thought process painted on his sweating face
he fingers loudly the moist pages of his life
wishing to replay the better moments
but just like everyone else
cant relive the moment
but you can live in
the pain of its regret for the rest of your life
if that's what you want
he's a follower of the herd
he sits with with them
and pantomimes their moves with precision
she sits in the exact centre
of the same corner each day
making notes of the coming and goings
and draws the faces
the funny faces
spiral notebooks full of faces
her glasses held together with scotch tape
her mind held together with
reruns of nineteen seventies sitcoms
and heavy medications
she is lonely but will never admit it
she watches him
and wonders
at the days end
she convinces him to walk her home
and together
they set out hand in hand
the sky and world around them a tourist picture perfect whitewash
he fingers her medicated mind
prying out the soft meat
looking for the dark stuff that tastes
like chicken
her misfire engines let him get only so deep
before her childhood memories
of a beautiful blue dress
and a apple pie brings enough
reality to his palate to end his fascination
they will end up married
because being misfit is better than
being alone