Leaving at aurora
he starts his half-caste day
half shore
half sea
.
In the cold sea torrents
As wind filled the sails, he nets the fishes
Echoes of the deep whirling into his ears
Bubbles of the ocean splashing into his hair
.
Beneath the bright azure sky
sat the freckled fisherman on the wharf
his wiseness and simplicity
drifting upon the the dull leaden sea
Alight
My face is
Alight
with fear
.
Crush the
Plight
and set me
Alight
Through the window silts I hear
Muffled shrills fleeting into my ear
Down the valley the train slowly trills
Through the underpass the steam stagnates still
.
Whoosh…… it plummets into my nostrils……I
Cough!
Instantly someone scoffs
at me with a look of disapproval, as I reach for my thermos
for a dose
of steam from my boilingly hot water.
.
Which sort of steam do I fancy more?
. . . . . . . . . . . Hi, . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . I . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . am . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .your trusty old. . . . . . .
. . . handle, swailing gently, . . .
. . yet meticulously, as your . . .
. . streetcar of desire twists . . .
. . along the buzzling streets, .
. . waiting to be once again . . .
. . pulled by a mitt of yours. . . .
Also published on Medium.