Waterforest

Hey stranger, want some?
Her eyes enshrouded in her facial shadows
Large, expectant alert sexy eyes
Lost in the reverie of allure
Her face caked in pale mask
Smooth, plastic surface, sweet cherub
Her lips shaded a warm orange red
Teasing irresistible proud pout
And she braces the night sting, expectant.
Hey stranger, want some

The moon's glare marks their silhouette against the wall
They suddenly break their chat and look their
Best each trying to outdo the other
They manoeuvre their bodies in a game of hope
And an outlandish one steps out
They stare in masked envy and tear away
Not totally though, expecting the stranger
to reject their colleague
And the stranger leans out in a hedge
Strange noises lost grunts, night music.
The stranger straightens and leaves in a timid hurry
Scurrying like a man in a dangerous street
Face buried in the night cast with a smile
playing on his lips
And so the night progresses
And they brace the night sting, expectant.
Hey stranger, want some?

A wheel, glossy green smacks its breaks on the drive
Its hum barely louder than the night breeze

Its windows lost in the blackness
And its rear door opens but no one exits
And she jumps in, swallowed in the deep
Lost sooner in a screech of tires.
The others look on with a silent prayer to her safety
But also wish it were them that went.
For the night is so slow
And they walk the moonlit street
Some burning some heat into them-cigarettes
Others hug their small bodies
Barely covered in thin silk
And they brace the night sting, expectant
Hey stranger, want some?
She slashes out towards her colleague
Bursting her sweet tender lip
And the stranger moves on up street
To more mild tempered blokes
The two end their fight, groggy eyed
Dripping in rags, broken heels, mangled hair
And they look at each other laughing
And they bid each other-hard luck-
Comes with the trade
And they brace the night sting, expectant.
Hey stranger, want some?

Dawn creeps upon the desolate street
And they vanish into nowhere
Cars honk and cruise the stretch
Men in iron pressed suits swing their briefcases
The street cleaner gathers the night's disgrace
And oh, what a clean street it is
Innocent, blemishes, and respected
They say it is the cleanest street in town
Well, only during the day
For with night-
Hey stranger, want some

There is this fellow
That lives right at my doorstep
He has the sense of being there
always;
And makes me know it,
Winking at the door opening,
smiling widely,
Speaking to the stray dogs,
Drawing air cartoons of me,
And laughing at his ingenuity,
I look onto him each morning
With the same scowl
And he says to me, God wakes again!

If I were God
Waking each morning to see that smiling face
I would ….I would never open the door!
I would spoil the man’s fun
I would… what is wrong here?
Can you ever leave my door step?
Please go away and leave me to rest!
can I love being God?