(a)

feeding my neighbour's dog
  frankfurters
                 & swiss cheese...

(b)

reading body language in
  a supermarket...
   a bottle of amber bitter in my
hand, a bottle of ***,
  reaching for a bottle of ms. pepsi...
   a woman looking bewildered
or rather scared...
     sort of insinuating
   someone tall enough
  to reach the top shelf
    and pick a pepsi max bottle for
her...
       the conversation went along
the lines of:
- just one?
- yes.
                 done...
      the simpler the deed, the greater
the pleasure,
             and it's the sort of pleasure
that's self-righteous, pompous,
            and greedy in
combating dips into depression
  that so many people seem to experience
these days...
       that's it... i was just taller,
and all i did was take a bottle of pepsi
from the top shelf,
    i might as well have saved
a drowning child,
         or a man trapped on rails
        of the underground...
                       but... since the gesture
was so obsolete, i didn't have
to bother myself with expecting
the other to notice me,
   while performing a "heroic" /
                        selfless act...
  **** me...
         little gestures,
  or in general: tact...
                 can always overpower
                      those grander gestures;
and ****, you can gloat in
            being so full-of-yourself
    that, nothing really correlates
     more pleasurably,
in any form of a "guilty" pleasure
    being minded as a "guilt" / pleasure.
                or a "pleasure" / guilt
as thus divulged;
       when talking to me, please bury
the crucifix, and resurrect
        the tetragrammaton
or at least make the
                 compass acronym
  north east west south
         remotely interesting
                      on the local stratum.