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
