Child of the Weather

You were with me today when I met her. She is a child of the weather.

It was sunny. The type of sunny where nothing moves, the trees stood still, the wind went elsewhere to play.

She was sitting at a shelter at the playground. Overlooking a sea of sand, I snuck a peek at her, with the side of my eyes, underneath the hood of my jacket, pretending to wipe the perspiration off my forehead.

Then without looking at me, she waved in my direction.

huh?

I looked unabashedly.

She's so young. in her teenage years. In a pair of school shorts and school p-e tee-shirt, with the wordings faded, and the silhouette of her figure showing with the sun. Her hair is in a pony tail. She is pretty.

She looked back and smiled.

I smiled.

And she beckoned me to her. And so I went to her.

And we sat down side by side.

She whipped out a mentos bar and offered me one.

She asked me if I'm feeling warm. "Not warm?"

"A little bit."

Then I took out what I came out to write to write.

The sky is blue beyond the stillness of the trees. The sun is forthright and frank. The occasional falling leaf or flower. Who can help but wonder what she was doing there? But since I don't want her to ask me I shall not ask her.

I draw a picture of a leaf.

She peeks and says,

"You know the leaves dance with rain?"

"But of course, it gets heavy and the branches will sway."

The trees must be amused.

"No, I mean the fallen leaves. They do the jitter-bug."

"Oh then I didn't know. Really?"

"Yes, I think you'll see soon."

She sighs, and like magic, it rains.

And the pock-marks begun to form on the sand, and the big leaves and the small leaves pop around and jitterbug with the giant black ants who never stop working.

Young adult

This is the truth:
The antidote to all existential anxieties nestles at the bottom of this beer,
if not,
the next!

CHEERS!

Let tomorrow come!
It will be a weekend soon!

Young

Come!
Sit with me
on a kerb by the orange lit road and puke in between knees
as the alcoholic acidic stench gently rise to nose
the vomit shall ebb away
and not recall the colour of the puke
and focused single thoughts say
Oh!
Give me another cigarette!
but light it the wrong way
say fuck!
and turn it around but drop it onto the floor pick it
up and it is wet from something
but don't care but take care to light it up the right way this time

breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
breathe out

Well now philosophize with the smoke in hand
was life supposed to be
this hard and complicated
being this young and invincible
cannot be this defeated
only confused
but it cannot not be simplified
by this weakened and drunken mind
the troubles must be all thrown up by now
wipe a few drops of tears with a right sleeve and
wipe a few drops of vomit off with a right sleeve and
broken dreams were meant to be forgotten
nothing in the world at this moment matters
but this precise desperation
and love and broken hearts that will mend
with a few more cigarettes
and must hope they will never run out
and must cross fingers
and believe tomorrow will not come!