Urban tastes

Oh her eyes - he thought. He sat across, the table, their "breakfast" - bacon, beans - sticky and red. "Well now!" he with his bariton. She, her eyes, he had their attention. Nothing else to say. Quick! Make up a - "Do you like your eggs?" He laughed at his unintended, but hilarious pun. She shrugged. Then she turned her face, along with her shoulders and the hillsides below, to face the next booth. "Pass me the salt please? This food is so stale."  Insult!! His blood ran quicker. His eyes narrowed. He grabbed his fork, his knuckles, whitened...

Hand in hand now, looking at the boring ideas about lust in the shopwindows. Winds of desire, unreliable, fickle, hand in hand still, her glasses - perhaps a touch of sweat? Triumph. Now he let her go, onward in front. Ha! His. Grey wool, tight, excess, curves, lawyer... his for now. What to do? A hotel? Quick. Any second now, it could end. What was he? Not her, certainly not that. Who knew, perhaps that was enough.

She turned to him later, on a corner, drinking from a can of coke. Suddenly she was... human. What did she want? Was he her dog? Was she his? A "serious" question. He answered with guile, his profession. He sometimes forgot, always with her. Confused now, the truth, some objective fact... "Yes, that makes sense". What did she think he was? "Of course it does". He spanked her, all was forgotten. As well, there might be a red moon rising, behind any of those shops. They went for coffee.

Lofliedje

Kom toch, scharminkel, in het woud der eeuwen
waar ik op je wacht, tussen de schaduwen van het stekelgewas.
Kom ook als je niet wil, wordt hier gedreven door zweepjes
jouw lot, eenzaam dier
Ik lach je uit om je rafelige kleertjes
je voeten bloeden en ik geniet
je ogen verraden veel meer dan je weet.

In mijn armen nu, ik zoog je,
melk die je niet lust, maar je slurpt
zo mag ik het zien, nog maar net bovengronds
maar nu ken je de doder. Is hij niet lief?

Ik had ooit een ziel, ach, over mijn schouder
plons in het riool (heeft dat ook eens wat moois!)
nu ben ik de Aarde, geen grenzen
slangen krioelen rondom me, lief en leuk
groen en glanzend, soms geel zelfs!
Fonkelrode ogen, brandend, gemeen
lispelende tongetjes, hier is het fijn.

Zeg me je naampje, dan verscheur ik het
doe het je vergeten, wordt één van mij
leuk kleutertje, met je eendje aan je touwtje
het bos van verwondering, heel goed
dat je gekomen bent!