The page remains blank

Despite the staring at reflections
Of windows and brickwork
Drenched in sunlight.

Despite the boots and trainers
Stomping across
The pavement
Outside.

Despite the vibrant colours,
The clinking of spoons
On coffee cups.
The relics of ineffectual chimney stacks.

Despite the cacophony of thoughts
Running
Through
My mind,
The visual metaphors
That used to grow
From verbal seeds
Floating
Through
The air
Before me.

Despite the ibuprophen tablets
Handed over
On a white plate.

Despite the banter
Across
Desert mopeds
And the questions
That tease out
Your excellence.

Despite the smiles
And the melted cheese
Entombed
In salt and pepper
With the rapid
Machine-gun fire
Of Czech
Conversation.

Despite the implausibility
Of
Lecherous men
In distant bazaars,
And the
Sweet-faced lips
Drenched in
Flesh-eating demons.

Despite the full-body tattoos
With knives
Dripping blood,
And the frozen burials
Divided by three tongues.

Despite the secrets shared
And the tesserae
Of
Human words
Exchanged.

Despite the ripping apart of pastry
And the ripping apart
Of thin membranes
Beneath my feet

Despite the softly coating
Dust
Of
Silent aromas

Despite
Despite
Despite

The page
Still
Remains
Blank.



---Jib, 2:08pm, 09 Feb. 08, Camden Costa, in my favourite spot.