Routine Rituals


But for my navel ( which I only

got to see once a day when or

if I decided to take a shower )

there was not a lot else to see.


The neighbours washing line

went from long to short and

a towel with sea shells was

never once spread on sand.


On Sundays, ( now here is a

thing ) when winds changed,

I had to close my windows or

endure a carnivore roast smell.


Clockwork monotony, same

time and same day for the

weekly shopping, no doubt

same store, same groceries.


Snap, you got it figured, it

was no different the other

side, or, indeed anywhere

on the terrace of sameness.


When one is doing nothing

different one is doing nothing.

So, as only constant in life is

change, I decided to go gypsy.