The Fuel

On one side of the street, people crowd,

staring across at the house that is no longer there.

Shattered glass collects their expressions

and pours them into the ground, where the foundations

of the house still lie buried.

The oil worms its way up and swallows

this small taste of humanity,

before being sucked out by a pump

more insatiable than itself.

 

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Grim Street Music – for all your musical needs

Every time I try to practice with my violin,

the world goes rather peculiar,

 

as a funeral march sings out of it

and humanity drops to its feet.

 

My pet mice love it, they get to

dance freely out of their cage.

 

The owner of the quaint music shop

where I bought it did say the wood

 

it was made from came

from an unconventional source

 

before turning back to the coffin

that was the sales counter.

Parking ticket

Mind the clock

as the ticket-master

prepares to drop

 

the white leaf

onto the window;

a grim flash of teeth.

 

Upholding his duty.

The passenger inside flares

her nostrils at this cruelty

 

and in a flash of skirts

rises from her seat

to kick him where it hurts.