John-Ward Leighton


rude lines
for rude times
the washroom door swings open
and wafts the aroma
of a homemade shit
into the room.

but that aside
I write with pride
and as the air finally settles back
there is the taste reserved for an angel
in a toasted crème cheese bagel
accompanied by a sound track of dreams
that is far stranger than it seems.

the girls at this Starbucks stand
ask after my health and really seem to care
there is a sincerity behind their public smile
and the poet bathes in their radiance
and scribbles at the corner table
reinforced and mildly inspired by their smiles
for awhile.

a twisted man in black hoodie
deformed by his cell phone
and talking to his pocket
about the explosion
of one way conversation
or whatever
it is for this

time, the thief of life
takes a long time to come
and then recedes at the speed of light
giving an endless Doppler effect
to everything we do
and when our time is up
and all that is left is the detritus
and the debris
and the imperfect memory
of our existence
at the edge of the void
there is barely time for more
rude lines
for rude times.

Photo: ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton
Photo: ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward Leighton