Tuesday, May 15

The Ouroboros Project #3 - The Man

{Poem a day #3}

There he is! I told you! Mr. Moon hiding behind the cistern in the bathroom all this time. That strong neo-Roman nose of his really sets of his long stubbled chinny chin. I never would have thought he would be so grouchy or so wrinkled. And I’m glad he isn’t wearing sunglasses, not that it matters, I just would’ve been disappointed at McDonalds being so prophe-prophetic, even with all the slaughter slaughter. But, digression aside, there he sits, lies, stands, sleeps and sneers. Yes, yes, a sneer – it looks like life has been tough on old Mr. Moon and his face is akin to that of a drunken history teacher’s early morning, pre-shaven splendor. I wonder what he does in here after the light turns off and business dies. Does he die and sink into the milky moony abyss of my mind? Maybe he hardens like a firmed yellow cheese, odour growing, growing, toing-and-froing amidst the cockroaches and party rhythms.  He definitely doesn’t have a bright jump suit on, nor does he play the piano and drink Pepsi. He just looks sad amongst the scorched violets and faded pinks of the yellowed, peeling, imaginary wallpaper.  Oh, Moony, chill out man, lay off the linoleum. 

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