As I tap away the seconds on the porch outside my house
let the little moments speed by
never seeing past the neighbours shadows on their curtains,
drowning the thoughts
need I?
Need I?

The words that are thought but never shared between lovers
                that's where I want to set my tent.
The emptiness of a piece of manuscript before a composer scribes their first motif
the rocky landscape before the cambrian explosion
the fabric that makes the dress that lifts the spirit of some lonely ******* a grey day
the clay between the sculptor's fingers
               that's where I want to place my luggage down

I see it all under the blue bus fluoros
watch the street signs pass by,
and just as common the lowly and the lofty,
the pigeons that sleep on the building ledges, safe from the gut of the street,
and the workers that slave over a steaming bain-marie standing for                                                                   ­                            hours and hours.
   At least it's better than the unforgiving cold of the pavement outside.
The idle girl sitting at the train stop, back as straight as arrows, head askance along the tracks to a train that is nowhere near.
She shows no fear, she knows these parts like she knows the bums that frequent the tavern where she works. 'They're harmless' she says 'lone rangers without a Miss Reid.'

You can sum up the world with a man building a tower
you can sum up the world with a girl picking a flower
you can sum up with world with a boy running wild
you can sum up the world with a woman kissing a child