Time Spent At A Cerebral Junction
Walking by the shores of a busy tramline,
There were endless possibilities for having a conversation.
Some stooped down to look at men smoking down their pipes.
Some made innumerable seductive gestures.
The buttons unbuttoned slowly,
To give way to chaos and destruction.
A vehement horn sounded at the end of the junction.
Everyone knew that the time was over.
The feet were restless and the minds were constant,
There was too much, too much to engulf in a given moment.
Walking on the busy shores of a tramline,
They knew it was time,
To stoop too low, to drain the brain juices,
Wrapped up in a filthy newspaper.
The juices overflowed and someone could not stop writing.