The observer sat



among these; white bricks,

grey sky outside the window,

and a man with a moustache

who appeared to be quite friendly.

The observer interprets

things he sees, he deems

worth a second look,

which is tricky business

for one who is



And although he knew

it would be easiest to

take in the world, as is,

he knew the meaning existed

in some starry other dimension,

that was not his visual one.

He sat observing,

a messy cabinet,

cracks in the tile floor


an angel, of sorts

walking, blonde-haired, into the room

and the observer felt

timid to gaze,

although he tried

to interpret her

distant beauty

it was so intangible,

that he could never truly


and so as

gentlemen did at this time

he stepped backwards,

spoke, directly

and then, obviously

went on