I choose the pasta

Take the bag

Pile it all in

Smile

And swipe my card

Speak to an acquaintance

Tick the list

Yet underneath

I’m writing poetry

Trying to make sense

Of the thoughts as they pass

Lost in the beauty

Of a sky

Darkening

Colours fading

As I walk to where I parked

Listening to someone speaking

Facading attention

Whilst underneath

My heart murmurs of the things

I cannot mention

Except

Through poetry

One person on the surface

Another underneath

Sometimes I speak a lot out there

Just because

Like a tape that knows the tune

I want “her” to keep them occupied

While I slip inside

Me

I’ve already disappeared from who you see

Me

Is

Somewhere else

Entirely

Beneath the world of the everyday

There are butterflies

And snakes

Engrossing as the real world appears

The interior

Who watches everything away

Is keeping an eye on those

Butterflies and snakes