Across The Street Sweeper

fat as she is
she pulls whatever she’s wearing taut

even fat, I’ve heard suggested, is a shape

mangoes come in so many sizes
she suggests she’s sweet
suggests we pull up a chair
pull the curtains across
and eat


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
8:35 p.m. 21/09/07


Words Wake Us

i
look at that very good-looking,
very big woman,
I open my window just in time to see,
lucky me

all the music in her body
I’m allowed a glimpse of,
the benefit of, for thirty seconds
before its over, before she’s gone

to make it last, along with, as long as
heartbeat, as long as my heart beating,
I transcribe, like notes upon a staff
to forever be able to hear, to see
a woman who, were she going my way,
I’d readily marry

but she leaves the frame of my window,
unlike a picture, framed, to get on with life,
to get on with living, while I write

movement, in air, even through air,
in this atmosphere, requires rhythm,
motion, to get through

like a swimmer in water, similarly,
must, with arms going, legs kicking
to overcome water, wanting
to hold you back, wanting
to drag you down

ii
glimpses, glances,
no more than this, no more than these
of honey bees

iii
Zoot Simms blows his saxophone
sound he makes is especially sour,
is especially sweet

this, mixed with notes
Joe Pass plucks out, upon acoustic guitar,
which rise like water droplets fall

just the medicine my soul needs
to add to, to go with
this journey cake of life

life’s not always a bed of roses,
not always a crystal stair
at times though, I cheer for the chairs
life pulls instead of guns


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
1:40 p.m. 21/09/07