new zealand electronic poetry centre

David Mitchell


online works



yellow room
 

he is sitting in the café lebanon
& his legs are crossed beneath th balls
& th traffic in the street is slow . . .
&
he is waiting, while he is sitting in th café lebanon
fr something GREAT to happen . . .
&
her face, in th mirror on th wall
reflects her boredom . . .
&
his face, is in th mirror, too
looking ‘ deep ’

but all he’s thinking is :
‘ that waitress is asleep ’
&
there comes a curious palpitation in th traffic
& th green bus goes by. there it goes !
                               ( it has gone )
&
his balls ache
while he is sitting in th café lebanon
waiting fr something GREAT to happen
( his balls are waiting, too )
yet
he cannot bring himself to uncross his legs—
his balls . . .
&
he is smoking
while he is sitting in th café lebanon
waiting fr something GREAT to happen

. . .

now
outside th traffic has jammed up ; stopped
completely
&
his cigarette burns down ; goes out
&
she scratches her wrist; absent minded
glazed eyes gone yellow with winter
&
now, she is scratching with th other hand
& outside th bus driver cuts his idling engine
&
they are still
                            sitting in the café lebanon
waiting for something GREAT to happen

&
that seems to be all—

o yeah.

&

A FINE RAIN BEGINS T’FALL.

 


ęDavid Mitchell
 


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Last updated 22 February, 2010