Meandering on Downstream

MEANDERING ON DOWNSTREAM

Walking along the streams of consciousness, through buttressed leaves in kick crumble rouge, past sloping off boats tugging at their moorings, past gates to huge houses, slipways slipping into the Thames to feed u bend swans fresh baked breadlets, past bent backed hedges with tanglehair dreams and lean over fences and trees that reach up to the giant’s nest and the blowbubble clouds with tingledrop raindrops that fall on caught out blouses and coiffured hairscapes, while dogs chase the illusions of rabbits that spill from a cast off top hat jammed in the hedgerow awaiting the applause of a Drury Lane matinee, while taxies cutcorners to pick up cutout commuters from their briefcased compartments and deliver them quickly to laptop lovers with microsoft thighs and dropdown menus before evening news and dinner for two on a punt down near Windsor while couples tell lies that neither believes as a matter of ritual and just to fill in time till the call of the duvet and feather down pillows in the lovertime night with it’s dreams of long winding rivers with trees that look like people and ducks that talk Norman and swans that sell cakes to passerby joggers in trainers and leggings that bounce on the leaves where rabbits lure dogs with the illusion of food and magicians lose hats in a spell under the stars and back by the streams where consciousness rushes before walking by the banks of the Thames flowing home to its mansion of the sea with it’s fishmaid servants and butler whales and ships that just seem to pass in the night..

Trev Teasdel