The pipe that carries gas
le long de la rue was repainted
five years ago
- now is brown
rusty and orange -
I do not remember what colour it was at first
- it doesn't matter.
There's the storehouse,
and our little cabin
repainted the same shade of
green as the steel fence next to
the apartment block,
went inside
caught a whiff of nostalgia
then left to where I was,
on the uneven concrete
1,81 man
on holiday
- met with memories to the nostril,
but no eyes, no face,
an eyelash, freckles maybe,
lips and taxidermy.
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2 years ago
2 comments:
Can't relate with the story or the style, but I love the imagery. Always better to go for short verse, always makes the mood lighter, even in a dark, damp or satiric poem. Last stanza is best. Keep it up
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