Heed not Steve

Then I Went and Traded All My Soup For a Fancy New Bowl

enough cash, I guess,
– popped stitches, worn leather holes
in my back pocket
just enough money, I guess,
to get a new wallet

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

Trek

trek

gone
where all men
go

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

Go Moto Go!

that heavy scent
it might maybe rain –
but for now …

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

Win and Win

lovegamble

love

throwing thrills like

a metaphor

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

 

Not Quite O’er the Deep Blue Sea

merrily

we

roll

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

Just Around

bushes

spring
hiding…ready to
spring

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

 

Hey There

Hey there, dog, with your big, square head and your squat, square body.

I see you.

Hey there, dog, as you stop in the crosswalk and fight the leash to look at me, right at me, through my windshield, through my sunglasses.

And I look at you.

Hey there, dog,  as you whimper and whine before you surrender to the leash.

And I don’t know.

Are you a friendly dog?

Maybe so.

The light turns green.

 

springtime  -
he chases a crane fly
out of the fridge

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

 

 

But Not Me

googly

breezy nap
the neighbor cat too cool
for googly eyes

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015 

 

If You Blink

Yesterday, on the bike, before the sun, I caught a whiff of citrus bloom.   Spring, short spring, is coming.  I love that smell, every year, and I smiled in my helmet.

And maybe I shouldn’t have written this in past tense, but it still happens, fresh, in your mind, when you read it.  And, anyhow, the moment was passed well before I thought to think it.

We’re all of us one step behind.

And spring is over too soon.

 

afternoon -
both dogs snoring
their eyes open

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

 

 

The End

At last, finished!

Dr. Malfor sits back from the workbench and surveys his latest invention, a tangle of charred wires and burnt tubes in an oak box with a brass push-button.

He has invented the Stop Everything Button.

He nods and wipes sweat from his face.  He opens his journal and writes a fast note.

He slaps the journal closed and drops it.

“This is big,” he says to his cat. “This is very, very big.  But, you, my murderous friend, are not concerned with the whims and responsibilities of man.  Hmm?”

The cat ignores him.

Dr. Malfor nods again.  He stands in front of the button.  He inhales through his nose and exhales through pursed lips.

He holds up one finger.  He stretches out his arm, and, with a deliberate, dramatic arc, he pu

 

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

 

 

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