The Block

The Block

Window open,

You can hear the rotor blades of a helicopter approaching.

A poached dream.

Thief in the night, stealing quiet.

Screaming out, defiant,

"If only they'd understand soap cleans, it can't cleanse your soul."

Black.

Knocking around coal as a boat's steam engine would.

Waging war,

Or tug of war, yanking a comb through knotted hair.

Hell, if only they'd bother reading,

I wouldn't fall asleep confused,

Drifting in and out of dreaming.

Sifting through the fine print for meaning and reason.