Poetry
The coat is larger than the passion
This oversized coat is too large for my passion.
Fashion is always exaggerated but when I feel something more of the less I need to be wound tightly.
As I climb the ladder to the troposphere,
My head in the clouds
Fluffy woollen collar
Down filled
Protection buffers.
I see that you are no where to be found
On this boulevard of dreams.
All the cafes and restaurants have no recollection of you being
Or existing in the real
Am I just reliving a memory as a small curator
In the minds eye that gathers more
Enlightenment as we age
Lustre glazes
Over ceramics and urns
And we learn the cracks in the pots
Soil letters
Spread on mosaics
Sharp tile piercing the estranged red balloon
As the mothers at the patio table
Talk about true crime Docuseries that they
Can’t get enough of
As the sharp steak knife plummets
To the cobblestone
Fresh blood is spilled somewhere
While chateau D’eau
Plays on a mid century radio.
The sharpest sale today on high heals
Puffer vest with a tear under the pocket
Dirty money rolls from useless pockets
Modification on the drop dead gorgeous
Influencer
Not into nidification
Efficacious discussion like bird warbling
Defines its boundaries
Chimera chatters and children splatter the puddles
Eventually you leave the ephemera in
Roseate glasses
Optimistic and pinkish
Orbs
Hot air
Not prone to blending
This reality to the thin air
Aerie
Or be an eagles nest
Without distress.
Francis A Willey
March 12th 2023