sample saturday

fox walks past long tail and some say abnormally long legs carried through bin bags brimming with summer things. i left the place of an old time friend her lips telling me a story that doesn't chime with marriage on the way but leaves a flavour of what may be. a red-clad beggar tells a story so tired it lies down on the sidewalk for a while before it makes its way to my ears which listen but don't hear because what is there to know. and then the only man to be found throws a bagful of empties onto his neighbour's garden and smiles at me as the glass shatters tunefully, as if it all make sense, which it probably does in another dimension and who am i to tell. and the fox walked away a long while ago, and now he's gone and he's taken all the knowledge with him, that's what happens on a saturday night after schmoozing the bouncers, drinking the margaritas and downing that steak, if you will call it so.