Three strange poems

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Two Sonnets for a 'Pedicrust'

pedicrusts* hustle a client further

'Bling Dynasty'? 'Hearts and Tarts? which polish?'

'Dim Sum Hum Plum?' "choose colour, choose colour"

Old lacquer the acetone abolish

renovation of the new bare toes, tip

black, busted bruisèd from jog pinching shoe

undug from Nine West coffins free to dip

in turquoise disinfect-plexi rockpool

sea of USA nails like on a far

eastern holiday you no understand

the chat of crouchèd women of nail bar

in flat plastic shoes, tap your feet to stand

in high foam, they come for a better life

Left their own beach behind our feet to wife?

Their hands swim now in these mini blue pools

No fish do they see , their own ten nail shells

Not for barter, quiet day when time spools

French their toes, but no flowers and petals

These they do on their own sands , so cool!

For my daughter, made her hair all corn-rowey

That makes you remember the chants, the air

Frangipani not 'Charged up Cherry'

You tend feet of people who need feet fair

Office girls, day off, come in silk shell suits

Go third world, worn out from glamour carousel

speak only if hue look like rotten fruits

But how we learn English if you not tell?

We are worn down by your hard, heavy feet

Come soak, soften, let your heart and feet, meet.

*How my phone translated 'pedicurist'.

White legs in a red skirt bending at the waist ending in black leather spikes

Rummaging in a holdall on a stool

Sunfish propped up in the vegie shop?

Deco backside of a building now revealed by a spanking fresh concrete and steel imposter

Maltese carrying a brisket over the crossing, head high and oblivious owner

Old Czech man comes out of a hostel

Elk from the highlands eyes the pub

Kids on the till in sleevemasters, the zzzz of the tattooing drill behind them beyond the door

Pressed metal?

Mixed roses $8

Foil wrapped hearts come slap me on the

Butt up against me

My old house has had its balconies ripped off

And is bandaged at the windows

How would the opera house nude pic be viewed by a repressive muslim culture?

Beurre bosc

Peres

Have you got a smaller padlock?

This one is too big

Lock too big

Big lock too

Too big lock

Lock big too

Sweet sippin mynah in the traffic

He sups at his puddle

Here and

There

Some bmw edges up

He keeps a drinking

Little buveur

Thin split-level

Tongue

Savours the tar warmed brew

In the little creux

Like the nubbin formed at the neck

Or that mysterious red blood blister

In my navel

He could sup at that and break it

And drink from a nombril

Navel gazin'

Little mynah

You make my traffic

Jam

One day I soaked pink lentils

They swelled with unnerving quickness

Bulged out of the bowl

In fullness

I ate them the same day out of a little yellow box

Feeling all healthy

full of virtue

Scorning the sandwich

When I noticed they were growing little tails

They were alive

The precursors of mungs!

I shifted my look onto the others

No one else's lunch was growing

And I

Ever so slowly

Closed the yellow lid tight

On those little teeny pink pills

And posted them far far away

Into the bin

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Oct 30, 2010 ⏰

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