Treasure Island

GRANT FRASER

(JUNE 7 1964 / ABERDEEN)

Friday M&S


I can't locate
where I am?

the mania of business
operates almost blindly,

things are sure
to get covered up or lost,

yet the second doesn't
shrink away or blink,

life is happening...

glances are operational,

from the salad section,
right down to the bread,

us human creatures,

commingling after
work, or on holiday...

money has to be spent,

if this is not a dream,
then it is an event,

the supermarket shelfs
are hovering and glimmering,

I had a fever, just then,

a run in with freedom...

what are your thoughts
before you run this way
and the next...

No God can stand in
the way,

the moment implodes
into an immensity,

you cannot breathe
without achieving the idea
of some kind of escape,

from the quiet tortures,
of reason and space,

I love this,
I know...
with a hole
in the wish,
the next second,
a run in,

on my knees...

where the stitching
runs machine like,
along the satin ledge,

a stolen look
from the plentiful
corners
of display lit faces,

secret and amorous,

I like to flirt
with nothing then,

the God that exposes little,

yet makes you feel,
as if it's you -
who cannot see it,

belief inflated
down below and above...

a blow torch flame
omits from your eye,

love ignites - just like that,

hits the face that's furthest
away...

Submitted: Saturday, April 12, 2014

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