Ribbon

Crow is playing in the field
as I wrestle with my writing
hearing cackling and cawing
as our orbit dims the lighting.

 

A pause, to wish all who pass here a good day and thank you.

 

Laying still as I can manage, face up on a table. The ceiling is featureless, I would look around, but I am told not to move. I can hear some strange noises, screeching, clattering of metal on metal, it sets me on edge. Strange hands grab at my shoulders, I can feel my limbs being pulled and prodded, yet I can do nothing about it. How did I end up here? It seems like hours pass, but who can tell in such circumstance, I could have been here days in this unnatural light. I am asked to turn over, fearfully I stare at the floor, while my back is grasped and pummelled, pains and spasms come and go, I wish to scream yet pride holds it in. Another eternity passes as my body burns, seeming to emanate ache. At last it ceases, my chance, in silence, I dare to sit up and look around. I sit exhausted in an empty room, but now, my antagonist returns! I stoop in frailty, flopping from the table. Invigorating massage, my ass.

 

Just received a wonderful compliment, apparently I have the feet of an athlete!

 

On a Sunday morning the loons come out in their inappropriately large cars to converge at the village green, to spend a day pretending to be American, as if American was a cosplay costume from a cartoon. Rain sodden star and stripy rags wave in the gales. Rock and roll music blares from a flapping marquee. Dislocated rockers stand drinking imported Budweiser while their hair sprayed quiff loses the fight to rain and gravity. They stare down at sodden suede shoes, dreaming of Memphis in the sun. Harmless fun.

 

Paint time’s ribbon
in iridescent shades
the ribbon stained forever
in the colours that you made.

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