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"shopkeeps" poems
Caressing my face, Bubbles rush to greet me Tickling like a sweet spring sigh. This is only the first. I am still half A visitor. Stuck in suspension Between this world and mine. Slowly I pass Through the threshold. My air-sick ears adjust To the sounds of the sea. I stare down At the small colony On the sea floor, My landing gear is down. Customs arrives. A grey, French Angelfish Of the most industrious kind. But he isn’t obtrusive. As he flits in and out Checking my bubbles Ensuring I am not bringing Any more air than I should. No doubt he will stay near Most of my stay I have finally arrived, The coral city stretches before me. I catch the current trolley And it whisks me past Rocky storefronts and coral motels. Lobster shopkeeps Rush out of dark Stores and stand in the street Giant claws raised Toward me in supplication. Beckoning me to come And browse his wares While a fish I don’t know Is busy cleaning homes and stores. They must’ve dropped out of the school Which passes by The pupils in matching uniforms Of flashing silver and black. Clown fish wave To me from their Lawns Of sea anemone Before darting back inside. Here is the kind of place Where I could put down roots. Live out an idyllic life Living in a coral townhouse. But for me to stay Would be severely fatal. I’m just a visitor And my visa is about to expire. I look back one more time As my head breaks the surface. The sun stings, I blink.
0
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
john-hill
On Scuba Diving
Caressing my face, Bubbles rush to greet me Tickling like a sweet spring sigh. This is only the first. I am still half A visitor. Stuck in suspension Between this world and mine. Slowly I pass Through the threshold. My air-sick ears adjust To the sounds of the sea. I stare down At the small colony On the sea floor, My landing gear is down. Customs arrives. A grey, French Angelfish Of the most industrious kind. But he isn’t obtrusive. As he flits in and out Checking my bubbles Ensuring I am not bringing Any more air than I should. No doubt he will stay near Most of my stay I have finally arrived, The coral city stretches before me. I catch the current trolley And it whisks me past Rocky storefronts and coral motels. Lobster shopkeeps Rush out of dark Stores and stand in the street Giant claws raised Toward me in supplication. Beckoning me to come And browse his wares While a fish I don’t know Is busy cleaning homes and stores. They must’ve dropped out of the school Which passes by The pupils in matching uniforms Of flashing silver and black. Clown fish wave To me from their Lawns Of sea anemone Before darting back inside. Here is the kind of place Where I could put down roots. Live out an idyllic life Living in a coral townhouse. But for me to stay Would be severely fatal. I’m just a visitor And my visa is about to expire. I look back one more time As my head breaks the surface. The sun stings, I blink.
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don't think about the farmer's market and sitting at cheap plastic tables that felt like they could blow away as easily as a hat in chicago don’t think about the styrofoam bowls filled with rice and teriyaki chicken that you couldn’t eat and the napkins that always got scattered everywhere don’t think about the singer under the tent who’d strum and hum and provide the perfect ambience as the sun was getting low in the winter don’t think about how the burgundy sweatshirt was almost too big for his frame and how it would swamp yours completely, sleeves easily surpassing your fingertips don’t think about how the buzz of shoppers and shopkeeps merely mirrored the buzz of excitement that radiated between you both don’t think about the way he’d laugh with a napkin over his mouth and pull his shoulders up, clearly nervous don’t think about the way his eyes lit up at the mention of certain subjects and how he’d rattle on about them don’t think about how miserable he seemed at the thought of school but how quietly joyful he became when you said you’d be glad to pick him up after if he’d like don’t think about how you saw the difference you were making and were so glad to have him so close but really, just don’t think about how the sun made you squint and you sat across the cheap plastic table from him in his hated burgundy school sweater with his chicken and rice and the way you had to tilt your head slightly to hear his soft voice over the rolling energy of the crowd and that you were allowed to touch again and how you gladly took advantage of that to calm your own nerves and how you couldn’t even imagine half the things that have happened since that first day you got lunch.
0
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 9:47 PM UTC
am
first lunch
don't think about the farmer's market and sitting at cheap plastic tables that felt like they could blow away as easily as a hat in chicago don’t think about the styrofoam bowls filled with rice and teriyaki chicken that you couldn’t eat and the napkins that always got scattered everywhere don’t think about the singer under the tent who’d strum and hum and provide the perfect ambience as the sun was getting low in the winter don’t think about how the burgundy sweatshirt was almost too big for his frame and how it would swamp yours completely, sleeves easily surpassing your fingertips don’t think about how the buzz of shoppers and shopkeeps merely mirrored the buzz of excitement that radiated between you both don’t think about the way he’d laugh with a napkin over his mouth and pull his shoulders up, clearly nervous don’t think about the way his eyes lit up at the mention of certain subjects and how he’d rattle on about them don’t think about how miserable he seemed at the thought of school but how quietly joyful he became when you said you’d be glad to pick him up after if he’d like don’t think about how you saw the difference you were making and were so glad to have him so close but really, just don’t think about how the sun made you squint and you sat across the cheap plastic table from him in his hated burgundy school sweater with his chicken and rice and the way you had to tilt your head slightly to hear his soft voice over the rolling energy of the crowd and that you were allowed to touch again and how you gladly took advantage of that to calm your own nerves and how you couldn’t even imagine half the things that have happened since that first day you got lunch.
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