Debouchment Studies III

Debouchment Studies III

City buses can be a great place to fall

literally or in love with

A parallel mix of fugitive lines

speeding up in tedious rituals

enmeshed labyrinths hiding

neighborhoods lingerie classics against

faded yellow houses on the verge of knowing

gravity

Before getting in do not forget to

obliterate your ticket

This city is a river. An Immense

water surface

rippled behind it's margins

meshing every air particle

with a unique

luminosity

crowned by pine trees

blended to the rhymes of

Atlantic impetus

forging the soul of her

seven hills

Sometimes memories wipe themselves

out. Window seats are the best;

Although there is a general concern

the clock is ticking likewise

sun raises from east

to the sound of staid faces confirming

the hour -

happiness will wait

while taverns go open in

decent morning cleanness

the smell of coffee will pour through

narrow streets in metric scale

widened after p.m. with lewd estuary's

breeze

strangely

there's never a collector on sight

fate is an excuse

we like to adore

no matter what

we'll drink to it

we'll sing our sad songs

after midnight comes

unveiled in communal acceptance

blurred by cigarette smoke

juicy intimacy

and a wasted love

waiting

Running for their last minute's drive

taxis should be avoided too

it all ends up with a view

a hand drawing a future there

far behind windows or

long after present waters clash

into the open sea

before dawn threats with

promises squirting west-like adrenaline

we'll be all dreaming

bizarre corpses on a reckless

indefinite

journey

© 2014, JC