in the pub the other day//with Aragorn & a good friend

from my sketchbook

.

winter’s tucked, warm&safe
behind a row of iron chairs
(with crimson cushions),
stains of home-made apple juice
on tessellated squares, in the corner
knights and buskers,
tie-dyed by soft candlelight,

we talk of journeying through europe
with just one dress,
a small handbag
& what fits into the pockets of a jeans
“not for me” she shakes her head

“i’d love to try–”

we carry life in giant boxes
& at some point realize things like
“no one ever read a bedtime story to me”
(which is far from random,
even more when you feel sick), so

tears ran down my cheeks,
amidst a bed of frazzled blankets
hubs pressed
both hands on my back,
the coughing ceased
& i lay wrapped, a child inside a basket
on the Nile

as the waiter gets our drinks
i take my sketchbook,
snapshot what i see
with few quick strokes

from the corner of a dream,
someone watches me,
bathes & duct-tapes the sky
on unsymmetric lines,

“i wanna travel light, you know–”

the knights & buskers,
beer foam in their beards like bird’s nests
play a game of chess on wind-swept fields,
i double-check my sword,

“here’s a door”
i nod “let’s go”

& in the sound
of cLinGing glasses

sense a breeze, a wild horse
reared up on its hindfeet
as the master starts

to read

.

for OLN @dVersePoets… see you at 3pm EST..