After a hectic week, this is just a simple little word sketch of part of my afternoon.

*****

last day of holidays

a dozen monarchs dancedrift
in pepperscented air ,
translucent against blue ;
my neck crane tracks
their unscheduled flightpaths .
the holiday happy kids
next door bubbleblow ;
while in the lofty gum above ,
a crow mocks their efforts ;
his chainsaw pull laugh
repeatedly kickstarting the air .
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BONUS POEM: April 28, 2018

Travel, sightseeing, culturfying yourself is predominantly about standing in queues with people you’d prefer not to be seen in public with. 

*****

Queue

from the French qarrsewhippe
a late 16th century heraldic
term meaning to “quickly despise
the people nearby; this stupid
attraction; the whole goddamn
country; indeed every living
human being on the planet”

i say every since you’re the fool
still standing seemingly forever
in this purgatorial procession
of humanity’s dregs
who fail to comprehend
basic tenets of hygiene
conversational volume
or personal space to view
a monument of no doubt
dubious merit in the first place

SPECIAL 3 DAYS TO GO BONUS POEM

To the jerk in the queue in front of me

almost coping with your incessant
OCDesque  side to side pacing
& intermittent backwards  bump
into me  despite the large gap
i’m attempting to keep between
us  since your first unexpected
incursion into my discomfort zone

but honestly, if you don’t care
to keep possession of the lint
from your shorts’ pockets
when exactly did you realise
it was what i want
             blowing    over    me