Jelly Lemon Shoes

Jelly Lemon Shoes

Jelly

Night train leaving

central station

as I approach platform

indifferent to

coffee still hot

in my hands

There's nothing to

do at quarter past

midnight

in this iron-cold cathedral

sleeping

but stare at the

pigeons

although

they from their

top hidden cliffs

ignore us

grandiosely

I lean against this

metal post as if

you and me

laying next to

each other

propagating jelly hands

could

be.

Lemon

(Fancies me,

or is it the other way

round?)

A combination of

fruit, taste and color

used vigorously to purify

blood

orchestrating body into

self-defenses

acidly blurred.

Shoes

(you don't need to

wear them

but you do!)

Hidden private identity

inside,

rewarded in mystic

shadow

you can find

keys, tissues, cigarettes, condoms, pens, mobiles

and so much more,

your most careless

membrane

abused for the sake of

integrity.

Jelly Lemon Shoes

Things can mingle

unexpectedly

you call me

it's late

there's noise as if

trains approaching

at some

central station

but you're not

me, you are simply making

indentations

tabular soul scripts to

awake mid-night curiosities.

And there I am

at your central

disposal

my hands skimming

through your

skin

as jelly as

you take off your shoes

and deprived

identity.

© 2013, JC