The Third Tuesday

finishing the book
blank pages, an afterthought
silent appreciation over space
she smiled on the other side of the world
he smirked, remembering
a dirty moment with her on him

alone but for the squares on her wrist
reminder of human compassion (love)
forgetting about time,
when spider eats ant
they watch, as fascinated children
sipping fizzy water and drifting

chlorinated casualties
sun and shoulders, beaming down
textures and tones
a bicycle in the heat
riding the street past fatigue

morning gone, evening settled
selling melted malteasers
then laughing with another
it was a simple day,
sharing the green waves
ending up on a jetty
and the same cigarettes with which they began

Moontide

with straining eyes,
she holds a simple glass
milk poured from the grey dark
walks outside to the blue dark

with burning ears,
she breathes in the pinpricks
they fade in blinks
everything still, a silhouette

with white skin,
she passes two hours by
sipped, swigged, taken
the glass is empty

with naked feet,
she sees a sky blushing itself awake
one hundred metres from
a better smudged yesterday