She keeps her pretty eyes ahead; her
neck along a track.
Maybe the sidewalk or the air.
Pretty eyes making perfect lines,
keeping wide and steady,
yet so soft they couldnt possibly have anything to do.
Bet even pretty eyes slip, sometimes
they are beside themselves, before
snapping into place.
So kept, the pretty eyes.
The World Is Round
The streets are filled to the brim, people cant seem to see their hands straight, somehow traffic continues crawling, and something tells me the world is round.
Whats electricity have to do with it? you ask. Whats the square root of an onion? then see if its any different. Play telephone on ice with every last blade of grass – go live in a shoe – find some pieces for the puzzle.
Ever met a young path? In all my years as Chef, I never could put my finger on it. Realizing science always finds a way to outscience itself. And that there isnt solely figment of imagination. Or else the world is a machine. And believe me, Ive felt it, the world is round.