Para-lanes

(; The strikes are fast-approaching 
to no defined extreme, 
but I’m already bowled down 
celebrating on the screens
               –that read more like departure boards
above – a runway barriered from –
all the alternate-optioned lanes 
who *might*’ve score tens across the table,

straight A-stars & stiff Estrellas 
[crossed]X-ed each box along the set /
Inflated mic-ed up multipliers 
sent my euphoria off the charts
               –off the table’s where you’ve spread me thick
& set the seed of a take-out
dinner served with excellence.
Serve me too so &, Yes Sir!, shall I you. 

When we once again raise the conduct 
– or check each other – *out* from prying eyes,
you’ll find the settled conditions & just the ticket! 
for a stable line ahead with me.
It’s the people who make it 
and these tracks: a great foundation.
Here with you could I clack to
the beat of Electric’s whistles.

A hundred-thousand steps or more with you
 – or so my phone tells me –
span the journey overground.
74 stops culminate our hour southbound head.
Distracted by jealous temptations,
the son of a money-launderer
scanned the haven for captured PR copies
but Big Brother’s not scheduled yet.

What a welcome! gentle taste!
round chops to save for later,
are the tongue-numbing juices, 
*and* the watermelon elf.
Borrow my pack of smokes 
for a shuffle with the treasures 
in a cubicle yet to fill 
with a compartment coach’s pleasures.

The seclusion promised there within
is for a wetted finger to vein &  
wind-check the drift of our intentions
against the alley’s we pass-by.
A thumb in the gum for good measure doubles
as we rumble a-short this night into morn.
Your anybody’s right here, picketing your want,
don’t buffer stop the journey now! find me later-on 😉


© Guy A. Forster-Pearce