On my way to buy a paper #89

Puddles, hole-punched-edges
Pills of May blossom
forced from the middle
by the force of the rain

Improvement?

Double-glazing
dulls dawn chorus
double the reflection of the moon.

On my way to buy a morning paper #88

Low, early morning sun
makes chain mail of an ivy-covered fence.
Suburban defence.

On my way to buy a paper #87 (or, Assimilation; quickness of the brain undeceives the eye)

Silhouetted agitation
emerging from the footpath on the left
becomes limbs
people
children running
from mischief?
no, one adult one child
abduction?
no, father early morning running
with his daughter.

From out of nowhere

After lunch, deciding to come upstairs, I glanced at the kitchen clock.
'Quarter to two' I said to myself.
And immediately heard the 'bing-a bong, bing-a bong' which followed those three words
on 'Listen with Mother'
which I doubt I have done since 1952.

Eating out in Adelaide

Table tilted twixt pavement and the street.  Trams hoot and judder behind. In front a parade intent on Saturday night, from posh to poverty. Gentleman's Club video plays behind tinsel-haloed angel-winged passer by and Abo intent on stealing serviettes is arm-locked and tumbled to the floor. Twice.

Bar in Darwin's Mitchell Street

"Two pints of Fifty Lashes. please."

"Pints? Big glasses?" Barmaid indicates with hands apart. Takes one from depths of storage to show us.
"Yes", we nod, mildly bemused.

Darwin, Adina

Waking in hotel room
trying to remember
the contours
Was that a recess?
Are there Venetian blinds?
Then colours come
and shapes
Some blue into the mocha of the room

Last night's Indian meal - cultural adjustment

Four deep-dyed Scousers
returning, from their conversation,
from a boxing event,
several times demand samosas
buttonly once say 'fuck'.

All changes when three locals
take a table across the aisle
whereupon they trade four-letter words,
friendly as could be.

On my way to buy a morning paper #86

Just round the corner
a banana skin
so fresh I guess the dropper
still chewed the final bite.

Three or four steps on, a rose
whose pale fat swollen pinkness
imitated mouth-cloying scented fondant.

And on return, I win my bet -
the banana skin uplifted and flown elsewhere.