Flaneur

I am the man in the top hat,

Swinging a cane, down the boulevard.

 

I unscrew the top of my cane, and it contains

Not a sword, but a long sip of absinthe.

 

I am sitting in a bistro, my legs are crossed,

Watching the swing of passing skirts.

 

I am the one the teachers cursed, smiling,

“He just does not apply himself!”

 

I am the cat who lands on his feet,

I am a hound, lazing in the sun.

 

I wrote a story of 16,600 words.

I wondered what had possessed me.

 

I prefer to scribble out poetry,

Finished in a single sitting.

 

I never learned to march in step;

I will dabble at anything you ‘play’.

 

I prefer to be ankle deep.

 

Whenever they again give a war,

I will say “wait till I finish my drink.”

 

If you think still waters run deep,

You have forgotten the meaning of the words.

 

I have the time to contemplate these things,

As I stroll without a goal.

 

I will kiss you, whoever you are;

I inflict poetry only to seduce.

 

My lovely, if you do truly desire me,

Do not play hard to get.

 

I will lead my life without effort;

I will be neither Buddhist, nor believer, nor atheist.

 

I will sit in the coffee shop and watch the girls.

Right!  Find me guilty of nothing! Bang the gavel.

 

I am a stroller on the sidewalks;

I know everything is forgotten.

 

I know, in a world where everything ends,

I cannot waste my time, so

 

Take my hand along the boulevards;

Let us embrace in every doorway.

 

 

 

 

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Published in: on July 14, 2012 at 5:12 pm  Comments (2)  
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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Plaudits from a fellow flaneur. Enjoyed your verses, and hope to share them with my readers. Meander onward…

  2. [...] tasks, so be it. But if you’re free to wonder and wander I’d like to introduce you to Borderer’s “Flaneur”, a retired broadcaster’s “shattered prose which goes under the generic description [...]


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