Monday, February 07, 2011

A Single Frame from a Foreign Film


He saw her on the skywalk
She looked so pale and thin
He tracked her down through alien town
But she would not let him in

And all those clues nailed up like shoes
Upon a wall of wooden doubt
Wouldn’t do to shake the blues
Nor turn her inside out

The lock she stole from wonderland
Served it’s purpose well
Kept him on the back foot
But served not rumours to dispel

Rumours whispered in the skywells
And shouted down the night
That her heart was cold her purpose cruel
That they ever had the right

To judge her by actions perceived
With gloating eyes that peered
Through the wrong end of the telescope
Through magazines revered

He saw her on the skyway
His camera bit the night
White on black up-lit looking down
Her soul had taken flight

His office strewn with litter-news
He smoked her down his eyes
Her seed a high-lit lover's lip
Whose whisper shouted “lies”

And stood behind that lock
A life in disarray
Where cell-lit walls would stutter
“There are other ways to pay”

Pay in paper. Dressed up as gold
From the of shadows on your shelf
A price that can’t be satisfied
By photos of yourself

He saw her from the skybridge
Awaiting chalk outline
His camera jammed between his teeth
In a moment he would define

As the moment of his wonder
Where all futures did depart
The thin edge of the wedge
A stake right through his heart

But behind her on the billboard
The sky is always blue
Perhaps a puffy cloud
For authenticity to imbue

4 comments:

Harlequin said...

the rhythm and rhyme in this one are wonderful.... almost a ballad. i like how you have made some unlikely yet totally resonant word pairings. very nice.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Harlequin: The ballad of the stars perhaps?

Confessions of a Temporal Lobe said...

I were here!
Loving these words-o-yorn.

Cheers!

Pisces Iscariot said...

CoTL: You wus, and I sho am glad you wus.