I am a soft man.
Casual by choice,
Easy on the heart beat,
Slow and lulling my voice,
No crisis ever comes to me,
I know not how to rush,
There may be demands made upon me,
But I’ll not make it much.
Push Push,
You pushed me over,
Am I in the way?
What dear sir,
be troubling you?
Is it a soft man,
Walking like he’s pleased,
So softly on the street?
Picking flowers in the riot,
Taking
breaths as if it’s quiet
Wondering, pondering, alien to that world,
Tense as a cushion,
Hard as a baby girl.
Maybe our little run in
here,
Has been your stroke of luck,
A sweet soft stroke,
No crash in
to,
This meeting of our course.
You’re heart beat already is
slowing,
Seeing me absent of panic,
To your shot of caffeine I’m a
herbal tea,
A bike ride to your traffic.
You remind me of my own
good fate,
Let us walk this tortoise,
He started out for lunch today,
And tonight he’s getting toward it,
His has been a busy day,
Yesterday he napped,
I had tried to prod him onward once,
And onto
my finger he snapped.
Because,
He’s a soft tortoise,
Deep inside
the shell,
With a rough exterior but soft interior,
The setup works real
well.
No time machine is troubling he,
He’ll get that lunch just swell,
With the rough exterior it’s a soft interior,
Deep inside the shell.
Looking back, he did not snap.
But I was in a panic,
I did not
think he’d live to see,
That meal unless he had it.
Immediately,
It’s my heart that had snapped,
And not his slackened jaw
I had
annoyed my self.
And he had only saw,
On a quiet bike ride,
He
viewed my traffic.
And taught me how to stop.
He got me then to walk
with him,
After his nap, tomorrow.
My consciousness swayed, and so I
stayed.
And then I stood, to follow.
From our early dawn,
To the
sunset on,
In the daily riot parade,
I did not miss a thing,
But saw
everything,
When walking the turtle that day.
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