The Story of the Yes Man

We had danced when I first visited Berlin. I was surprised that It Guy had wanted to dance with me. I was still operating under OSYankee.

But when I returned to Berlin I had upgraded my operating system to OSPirateQueen, so I was not surprised when he wanted to dance with me all over again.

the morning commute.

Faces slips through
the cracks between
train carriage windows.
One by one
Three by four
until the blur of bodies
And rising voices
Become one moving being,
Inhaling and exhaling
the excesses of the city.

Tanzen wir, oder?

Flashing lights illuminate
sweaty, exuberant faces
and I tilt my head back
reaching my arms to the ceiling
and examining my fingers
as they intertwine
and create their own dances,
as though aware of some other rhythm.

Tick tick

Time
slips through
my grasping fingers
as I search
for something tangible
to pin my spindling
thoughts to,
caught like threads
and tangled up.

Shades of a Pacific sunset

The sun burns gold through orange to red.
Bodies emerge from the ocean
giggling, dragging themselves from waves to rocks
and back to waves,
before finally allowing the milky shallows
that reflect the burning sun
until the blue-grey turns to marbled shades of umber
to abide to a rhythm all of their own.

Of soil and bridges

I tread new soil and
burn old bridges.
But the threads that run through me
disguised as new ideas and identities
have long been woven into this
patchwork of lives and lives
in a foreign place;
A place of soil and bridges
that I have never stepped upon
and to which I will never return.

Happy Faces

The heavy feeling coursed through her again and her heart started beating faster. The happy faces surrounding her seemed to be moving in slow motion in comparison to the inner chaos of her frantic thoughts.