i enter a grand mosaic public building and on goes my medical face mask i join the back of the queue with my documents in one hand and my numbered butcher ticket in the other i admire the mosaics a jarring tide of art against the bureaucratic purpose of these rooms gauzed in with own product exhaust all my past is attending exhumed patted into my breath baiting remembrance with unsubtle notes for example : integrated spittings of 'drum' tobacco (i quit a decade ago) horning catches of cologne every boy used as a teen seasonal scents unweaned from deep in my system (some reigned in from the different countries i lived in or visited) then i am frisked back to infancy with breast milk and rusks it's all there a basking flippancy all there in musk about my face one fragrance after another
it's an honest relief to host an alternative to my 'old man' breath but odd and concerning something of the brain ?
The skeletons in my closet wonder Unanswered questions, I dare to ask Haunting my ever existing body, it asks and tells I answer, they stumble and mumble my name My humbled body slumbers to its death, waiting to awake once again.
There isn’t much to this week but on this day, intertwined in a breeze wondering if the clouds will shower or burst into a freeze I read pages and pages of past taking breaks to peel pears and slice the strawberries drizzling honey onto plates and savouring the sweetness of spring fruit I think of all the mountains I've yet to climb and how much I look forward to the rain but parts of me still hold onto autumn and the feeling of watching the trees shift into a new ending It’s just like how these days I keep returning to the shelves on these walls picking up all the books from every conversation in the past and trying to, once again, read between the lines to decipher when those questions became answers
