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Walkmen


As the earth passes faster
Some signal of dusk floats them by
Their heads plugged in to boxes
Crepitate like flower heads

The drugged sunset winks an eye
Coaxing out the cicadas from them
And then a monosyllable of drums
Urges some nervous re-wiring

Within them is a sweet chorus
Closing the daylight to their sense
Limbs stretch out as if rhythm
Opens the petals and barminess

Many boys and girls sip the same nectar
Each bus-ride, train-ride swims them
On a pheromonic tide. Each mute pair
Of eyes seeks a percussive etching


© David Incoll 2001


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Copyright by David Incoll 2001