Vice Grip

Walking thru’ pensioners and girls in mimsy see thru’ dresses
I wanted to touch them all, hold them all in some vise grip
Shake them from their set smiled sunny day’d stupor
In imagination of duller worlds other than my own.
They part as waves plunged by darker bodies
Flowing to left and right in unconsciousness
Unknowing of my real motives for contact
I suspect they suspect me of financial, sexual motives
Anything other than existence wake up calls and tell me
How I/we can justify the next intake of breath
And the next
And the next
This is no idle question
I hold a real need to know
If life is to continue
White poppies to burst again in autumn
Asphalt to crack in summer heat
Lambs glisten in spring sunshine
Winters ice sheen to fade once more.


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