delivering
the balding, red man in the fleece knows not his significance,
ignorant heavy-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose
as he stoops to shovel paper adverts through my letter-box
nothing means nothing to him, nothing just is him
but he is not him to me, the brass clattering of his actions
is a synchronicity, a timing and a disturbance
and as i race to the window, we both feel a moment
of juncture and separation because our eyes meet
and we have been caught.
February 19, 2008 at 9:36 am
I never know what i’m gonna get when I click over here.
But I’m never really disappointed.
You captured this moment well. I felt as if I were there…as if I had been caught.
k
February 20, 2008 at 2:58 pm
the inevitable meeting of eyes of a someone who may or may not think you’re anyone. Classic, a rare gem of a mental ejaculation.
June 18, 2008 at 5:43 pm
so….? what’s next?