aiart – Brinkinfield

Checkout Conversation

Asked if I need a bag for my groceries
Sheepishly, I confess that I do
Next question: “Did you find everything you needed?”
Half-heartedly, I report that I had done so
followed impulsively by: “Mission accomplished.”
Which, I immediately regret

The regret shows in my eyes
and the unconscious way in which
I draw inwards my lower lip
Signalling an involuntary slip
A blip
the unfathomable need to extend an answer
beyond a simple “Yes.”

She sees my regret
and remains silent
What did I expect?
A laugh?
A smile?
An amusingly cute riposte?

Her eyes focus on the job in hand
my groceries pass through her hands
transferring them from shopping basket
across a red light scanner
before packing them neatly
into the compostable plastic carrier

Œuf Vierge

She enters my bubble, sits facing me in this here American diner
staring straight out across the table, expecting me to recognise and remember

I retain my apparent composure as a power station fuels a search
through the totality of my memory

A brief, sensual smile disappears so fast, I’m not sure it was ever there

Out from shadows, a staff member readied approaches
fingers clasping notebook and pen poised

“An unbroken egg please; not boiled, fried, scrambled nor poached.” My company instructs, delivered matter of fact. “Shell left intact.”

Okay remember, this is New York, thinks the young and intelligent waiter
I’ll just provide what she wants and laugh to myself about it later

The waiter asks, “A coffee refill, for Sir?”
Expectant, hanging on for an answer

“Yes, he will.” My uninterruptible bubble invader opposite commands
“Because you like coffee, don’t you?”

I Guess Where You’re From

At the railway station, a few metres in front of a café, I held up a piece of cardboard torn from a box, upon which I had written in black ink marker-pen:

“I BET I CAN GUESS WHERE YOU’RE FROM WITHOUT HEARING YOU SPEAK“

Claude looked like he had time to kill, waiting for a train connection. I watched, as he sauntered towards me, looking thoughtful. All in one motion, placing his briefcase onto the ground, clasped between his ankles, he pointed at the sign with his index finger, then pointed to himself.

I looked at him for a few seconds, with a blank expression on my face. “Belgian.” I said, forming an innocent smile.

Claude jerked backwards, as if a fairytale ogre had appeared behind him and given the collar of his coat a sharp tug.

Dog-Speak

I once knew a woman
alas, no more

(I mean, alas no more do I know, her
Not ‘no more’ in the sense of her being dead)
(Although she may be, for all I know
But I very much hope not, obviously)

I once knew a woman
alas no more
Probably still very much alive

A seemingly sane woman
by most available
measurable psychiatric standards
pertaining to mental health

♀

♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀♀

Old Actors

How did everyone get so old?
I can’t believe the Picard series three.
I kept wanting to yell at the fumbling Patrick Stewart to speak up!
I couldn’t hear him because his voice was so weak.

And what happened to Joaquin Phoenix?
How did he get so old all of a sudden?
Wasn’t he young, until recently?
Just how old is he?

Much of the Time

Much of the time, this is how I look
This is not a moment caught in time
Not my react, told it’s my turn to cook
This is me, appearance far from fine

Illness creates this expression face
With eyes open, gapes large my mouth too
Mouth shuts, normal, nothing out of place
When I blink or sleep all the night through

Support Network for Introverts and Over-Thinkers

.
Seriously, after a big build-up at home, lots of self-coaxing, lying to myself in the mirror, and pumping myself up with outlandish self-talk, I garner enough courage to attend the inaugural meeting of the very first, official, Support Network for Introverts and Over-Thinkers. Or, “SNIOT”, for short.
.
I’m bang-on a strategic ten minutes late and guess what? No one else is here aside from the Cleaner, head down, vacuuming the carpet in small figure-of-eight patterns.

Activism

.
Friends Yukio and Shioli, this weekend plan to enact their ‘Free the Fish’ pact, by taking their families’ pet fishes down to Sumida River for release.

Marcel’s Last Day in Marseille

Of the options available
late, early or punctual
I am usually late

Toward the port
I stride through
Old Marseille

I see him there
in familiar dark grey
suit made from linen

Sat outside his favourite café
Le Coq Bleu
a small coffee cup and saucer
sits on the table
newspaper is open
leg crossed over other