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.





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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