Peppermills

Many, many ways to say “time passes”
pepper in a pepper mill
summer began and it was full

reaching out to give a twist
seasoning a salad but lo
none was left ! Where did it go ?

Dust gathers while we wipe
framed pictures week on week
dust gathers (while I lie kissing you)

bills fall off the table  (unpaid)
while I wait for you
paint, slowly, slowly,visibly dries

turning calender pages
running horses, wolves and tigers, baby ducks
who gives a fuck ? ! time passes

children are bombed without remorse
and the random “shuffle” DJ's all the tunes
with uncanny perfection, as usual . . .

poems are written by rain drops
across the bridges on Friday nights
landing on dry tarmac where

a perfume sweet and acrid- beautiful
the scent of a feeble person making half hearted attempts
to break-free but lacking the power as usual. . .