Photo by Alexey Shikov on Unsplash

On a layover at Heathrow, or Munich, or Manama, I can’t remember
Twirling the small straw in my vodka & tonic at 10 am, which timezone
Tapping the bar, watching week old peanuts wriggle and shake in the vibrations

An unsmiling tall man enters with an older gaunt woman, easily late 80s
She’s wearing a threadbare sweater and clutches her arms, shaking
The man sits down on a stool, calls the bartender, orders a seltzer
The woman swivels towards the window, stares through a gray horizon

I make small talk, where are you coming from, where are you going, how…

A poem

Photo by VED on Unsplash

A bleaching here on here, it is
When I talk to you and I see that look in your eyes, a warning sign
And then on a walk, we talk, we talk, and then again, we talk
Never reaching the end
Pear trees ripening, grotesque and sumptuous
Fallen fruit, rotting, worms akimbo and twisting in awkward delight
Flesh Consumed.

Talking of the time when we both loved that moment, our hands intertwined
Autumn leaves, and late rain, swirling colors, a blizzard of orange hues
A splotch from a giant paintbrush, illustrating the countryside, like
A children’s storybook.

As I look…

A Poem

Photo by mauro paillex on Unsplash

Streaking naked, gangly legs and arms jump
Off a cliff and into the abandoned mineshaft
The pool of water screaming and laughing and singing
like a redneck berserker fueled by summer freedom

Roaring waters and zinc oxide noses,
while tumbling jelly-filled kids waddle into
water chutes at the slide park, rocketing and
somersaulting, careening off apex turns at
full throttle, launching into pools and lakes of
yelling mothers and drunk fathers while water
spickets squirt jets of spray across the simmering audience

Bovine boys stuff their mouths with grapes
and fingers and tell each other giggly jokes
and spew spit filled fruit…

A poem

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

We go now then, the five of us
Across the path stretched out across the green plain
Like a quilt-work blanket spread out for a picnic
We go now, through skies of gulls, and warm summer gusts
And quiet lusts
Past the shrill timbre of cellphones, and haptic feedback
And past team meetings, and Lunch and Learns; In pursuit
Of Serene Intent
With a question of why can’t you Dad, why can’t you Mom take
Time, and time to take now
We go now, we take now, we take now

Out in the big sky that can swallow…

Colin Thomas

Avid Foodie, boozehound, and life wonderer. Sometimes writer.

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