23.1.16



Itd be nice to have dreamt it  yaknow
                              at least on oddball occasions
wrest awaytamp down its reoccurring queerness

pull hard at its reins
                somehow affect it
 

Once   it was obscure an curious    tame
                                  now so damn frequent  nearly mundane
lapping again an agin at the hips of early mornings




it seemed on those evenings when he was up past midnight wrioting he carried an onboard-inborn clock that summonsed him to lift his head rivet his eyes to the hands of the wallclock as they read  agin  1234

hed look ansee 
               1 - 2 – 3 – 4

an most of the time within five ten seconds of its second hand having swept 1234 into existence




he was exhausted
               he put his pen down on the sheets of paper clinched in a clipboard
shoving it forward he heard the slight scrap between the board and the desk top
he failed to recognise their mutual irritation with each other  which they kept on a lowdown  each jealous of the other when one wasnt employed  then contemptuous when used together

he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands disregarding the scrapsound

because he knew
even without lookin
it was 1234


yahBingo!  confirmed
                  he shut his bloodshot eyes again

he slouched in his chair listening to the abrupt ticking of the second hand
  
it sounded humoured   gay

then in the shroud of his drawn darkness  listening
aware that his breathing was rhythmic to the hand

something   descended   in his closed eyes                 

                                                                                                                         he didnt look up or at it directly
he was aware of its presence


it descended towards a darkened urban street that unfolded in his eyes peripherally

etched in sharp white lines  relief  by the moon

it struggled elbowed its way through the cover of dense squat clouds
                                                       a careless rendering
shuttered  squalid   yet something in it that was keen    promising
    
a promise held in trust etched on the faces of the buildings  no matter how aged  they were stalwart  built with and on an elemental pride now dysfunctional  designed with provocative flourishes which invoked their Identity  Identities that screamed louder than their cornerstones or their inscribed or dated keystones
                                                              an that which descended into his vision
snaking its way through the gritty atmosphere
presented itself to his fixed uncurious eyes
 
he saw as if he were surveilling  making blasé recordings

                                                                                               Huuh   segmented    pliable

a bus
pliable like an earthworm

it descended writhing  realising  verily conscious of its steep descent   a towering nosedive towards the street

it looked into the holes of the asphalt
  
at its filthy concrete aprons 

 
it was conscious of its velocity  its freefall  conscious that its earthfall would be destructive  or deadly
                                                                                  horrific

 
from its belly where its tires should be there emerged stout black skis
 
they extended themselves deliberately from their wheelwells an the street below echoed an reverberated to its stingy braking  
        the sound of stifffabric ripping 
 
the bus arched its back
                    defended its face as he would if he were falling fell headlong

the front skis sheared then split the blackskin of the street showering sparks as sparks fired an thrown from a whirling whetstone turned violent

the bus’ back bent sharply
                      it groanedgasped
it sounded like a rising leviathan

an then beyond its ribs 
beyond its dull lighted amber-coloured windows  either fluttering madly in the screaming air or adhering like stamps
he saw its rear skis extend  coming out of its twistedbody

they struck the street hard an threw shivering arcs redorange an whitetinged sparks



the bus shuttered  threatening to jackknife roll split at it seams
but somehow  
           somehow it came out of its dive  stablised  shrieked   throwing even more sparks that lashed the buildings unflinching faces 
                       their gazes undisturbed  unfazed


he rubbed his eyelids with the cool tips of his fingers

soothing them




his Magic Bus arrived




0104,  Twosday,  19  1. 16
1428,  Friday,  22  1. 16

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