Begin
stiff little fingers hover reluctant, shy? over the keyboard
let the passing of crap be brief, my hellish ego cries from within,
and unbridle these fingers to release the writers energy required to
report, invoice, cash cheque, move on.
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Now I sit by a window, newly mine, rain splatters gently
last night, there was howling, sweetly familiar, drunken cries from neighbours or passing strangers
begging forgiveness for unkown crime
forced from their breast through liquored breath
what have I done?
Just what have I done?
pleads slur from unseen lips and I'm above, removed , slightly amused at the lack of concern, the lack of threat channelling upward from the street below
what if murder or rape is comitted below?
I will not know
unless in the morning there a blue and white cordon
and I slip guiltily by
knowing
I passed metaphorically by
on the other side
from my room
in the sky.
Last night.
Well, now its the morning.
Nothing is there ,
if I hadn't been up trying to break my writing block
til past four oclock
i'd have been sleeping
peacefully sleeping
at the other side of the flat that is newly mine
and know nothing about it
either the drunkards bawling
or my own ignoring.
shame!
