Gábor G. Gyukics, Chairs, At the Airport & Flash Pictures (three poems)

      Chairs These chairs should be rearranged she said Who would do that I said You came her answer as she sat I moved the other chair close to hers At the Airport You had no tears But glued a half smile On your face Kept yourself busy With this and that Stared at my suitcase When you found nothing else around To touch But me This yellow raglan sleeve coat Looks good on you I said Instead of saying I'll be back You took your coat off and Put it in your bag Flashed Pictures Catered emotions Waitress's dreams The construction is rather in ruins Rainy desire for a sculpture breasted woman Daphne of Mexico Owner of puppets and their wooden words. Your laughter belongs to me My lute made you tremble inside Opened your shell Touched the pearl In vain It fell back to the deepest thigh of your ocean I will have to dive again

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