In this moment, at this time.

We've not got a lot in common
You and I.
Well not as far as I know.

But maybe you love the things that I do
And revel in the little pleasures
Like watching through this moving space as I am.

We are human
And we are here, now,
In this moment, at this time.

Watching like flash fiction
Flashing before my eyes
The windows like a start stop animation.

Or an old movie film
Flicking through
Juttered and juxtaposed.

I don't dare blink,
For it's not a moment but
A life that I'm missing.

A rumble and I'm shaken
Into a snapshot of your life.
Is that your house you creep in?

Is it yours, the stunted little home
Complete with dirty dishes and
Dead daffodils in a windowsilled vase?

Is it yours, the one with the roof tiles
That slip away from the crooked chimney
And grip for their life?

Is it yours? Or are you just
A piece of furniture in the owner's life
Like the chastened chairs sitting straight at the table?

These houses slotted together like books,
In random mismatched heights,
I like to read from them.

You can't read in too deeply though,
For the pages turn too fast,
But I see things; I see you.

We've not got a lot in common
You and I.
Well not as far as I know.

But maybe you love the things that I do
And revel in the little pleasures
Like watching through this moving space,
As I am; in this moment, at this time.