Ode to the Time Stalkers

our secret way

to glimpse the world

cocooned in our own zone

fearless, anonymous, and alone

steal these precious minutes

from the workday masters

rambling soundless odes

to sooth frustrated souls

stalk this fleeting heaven

of a jazz-touched park

like a secret agent

at a drop

mind reeling

at the deft machinery

of life

its well-oiled gears

laid bare

just in time

to meet our retreat

on well-heeled feet

past the fumes and noise

with all manner

of proper corporate poise

we, sun-starved lunatics

of our own design

forever tethered

and counting time

Lunch Walk

Less time than a prison yard

but more

to put under gaze.

We seek to be invisible,

dissipate

into the summer haze.

Work piles up

while we breath fresh air

for our only fun.

Let the scene to be seen

turn and blister

in the sun.

Wear eight hats

and pulled

every which way.

We let work eat up

too much of our day.

Someday

we’ll go on our lunch walk

to stay.   

The Sunlight Iron Flash Muses

the heat of spring

brings the office people outside

brisk walk

to hide our wandering eyes

as the city aligns

to sight the sunning flesh

such fleeting seconds

stitch together the patch-quilt

of our day,

and fuel us

through carnal night

when our real work

is done