An open case? Besides familiar frame of you,
the day's paler by the minute. Respectfully
pays its last rays... faces acute, then vague
into silt. Recalled in last meeting, watery-
eyed micros dribbly down to yesterday's open
frying pan. That's because the tray hasn't left
yet and if I could, none of you would panhandle
here. Arthur, to stay lower case, a wake
yet a pale misnomer. To not say (what) and
be a part (of, or from). But that was
two spaces ago. Who isn't, these days?
Don't give me lyrical couples who go skinny-
dip, slapdash then slobber into happy
tomorrows. By tomorrow, love will pan out
into pots and spinning tops, though isn't it
a discreet porter we still reminisce about,
and play footsy with? Friends and relatives,
the occasion calls for it, is sustained by it,
till the skinny gives way to. What?
Anniversaries. So live and let's leave.
Seconded and already soft in the saddle,
these graduate into hours, steering the level
headed towards some feeble consensus,
like catnap, a hippity hop, soggy socks
strung out to dry till Sunday; all you'll never be.
By Yeow Kai ChaiQLRS Vol. 6 No. 1 Oct 2006