There Imago was

Crashed flat out

face to the sky on a hill

of sun shredded grass,

Patches of smoke

pausing like elephants

big ears open to the wild fyrs furling.

Listening she was Listening she was

for a kindness for a kindness

to pass to pass

on

onandonandonandonandon (fade out).

She wrote in her diary.

She wrote:

“another hot day

I love the blues

but we need some rain

the trees all stressed

took a long walk

found a park

on a hill full with dry grass

I stretched out and fell

asleep

I don’t know for how long

maybe just a moment or so

but when I awoke

there he was

sitting on a park bench

across the way

writing something

in his pocket notebook

‘what is it?’ I asked

‘ants in the grass,’

he sd.

‘What do you want

to do for dinner?’

I asked him.

‘Pesto braised

free range

chicken,’ he sd,

as if.

‘I’ve some hamburger

helper on the shelf,

I think,’ I sd.

‘We can eat it

without the hamburger

again’

‘Have you heard

the new Elvis song?’

‘I like Elvis’s early stuff,

when you could still hear

the instruments, a guitar,

a riff or two.’

‘I don’t know

where I’d be

without my radio

what I’d do.’

Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio
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Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio
Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio Radio
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