The first morning beams of the shining giant’s
Chased my train and its hundred clients,
Dying on their face a golden curiosity:
Their beany questions might disdain Horace;
What treasure is the day hiding for us?
How we enslave ourselves to succeed?
They might be the opiated words of the daylight
While others’ shady face merged with the night;
Their eyes were in sleepy marsupium.
The trancelike music of the wheels’ tuc-tuc
Choked and chopped up the time’s tic-tac;
Asken asleep: what time is it?
The cockeyed carriage with many Sir and Madam
Of Sun-and-Moon, Dead-and-Alive amalgam
Ended by a gentleman’s advent.
The man flashed up frighteningly brightening;
Noble whiteness, but eyes with black cunning.
What omen has brought him to this world?
He aimed the corner, though there were seats,
He was frozen, though his presence seethes
The air and the atmosphere.
Misty curiousity raised around the Mysterious Man;
Teacher? Agent? Man of letters and pen?
He caused a misery.
He looked beyond the crowd once, scanning
As if he memorized all at once the setting;
He retired to the shade of his crown.
Oh no! Surely, he must pretend or it’s an accident.
Why is he so insanely confident,
Has a Special Force?
With blueish, cold-blooded jeans, shoes and vest,
Reddish, vehement beard borne as his crest;
He was the manly elegance.
The long white collar under his beard
Made ways to other words unheard:
East? West? What continent?
The gentleman kept his corner as a throne;
A store of wisdom under his hat’s dome,
All hidden in his closed eyes.
Does he see me while I’m committing the crime,
Watching him and looking for a fitting rhyme?
Were his eyes ever-seeing?
Since I could feel anything but his eyes
As a magician who can hypnotize;
I daydreamt about him.
Difficult, tho I describe him just as myself;
I close my eyes and imagine myself,
As a person who’s able to rhyme.
Writing in the corner is truly priceless!
Even if I’m somewhat rhymeless.
Could I forget who I am?
A rhymeless gentleman.