Alan Bruce Thompson
Alan Bruce Thompson Poems
She stood there pouting, adopting a film star pose,
As her curvaceous virile body, pushed shape into her clothes.
She perched on her stiletto heels, threw back her blond hair,
She stood high above the crowd, aristocratic, without care.
She rehearsed for hours to become Venus personified,
She got some men excited, the others she mortified.
She swayed along, her hips swinging, so vain.
And all of this performance to collect tickets on a train?
Soaring up, caught by a draught,
Up more, up again, as I soared I laughed.
There I am down there, the other one of me.
The collective bird brain does not know you, does not know me.
Two parts of the same soul caught by the single wind.
What are those spots down there? Asked one of me the other.
Ah! humans in the garden of life, replied one of me to the other.