I’m not here anymore, I’m already gone
on that bus to the Cape, only my body
stays, spirit, mind & feelings already left
lonely and bored; wondering how to pack
my bag with heavy mosaic tiles for my
Duchess and my to-be-altered clothes,
2 books for mom on Israel, Velikovsky &
a few Anastasia books to fill emptiness
I’m a waif floating over nothingness in my
expectation to be on a bus to the Cape –
time is just a waste until the journey begins
the Lord & Master of the Crocodile Castle’s
enjoying bureaucratic misery, doesn’t even
sense what this crocodile thinks as he kindly
permits me to talk but baulks at my topics,
I have fun laughing with my crocodile son
Being a silent alien at work - fellow soldiers in
government trenches; the slow anger burning
within since Lord and Master of the Crocodile
Castle refused to pay his respects to my birth
family, changing the weeks ’til I leave into a
form torture; watching the clock anxiously till
I get on the bus and forget about us…
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