The End Cubicle: Wide-Eyed Trevor, pt 3 My rubber-gloved hands, braced Against either side of the doorframe Resisting the pull of the vortex An endless rack of curtains swirling In a whirling pool of weighted velvet Revealing #parallels, one after another Behind a curtain A perfectly maintained pub gents Like mine, but not mine The curtains part Then the street before the buildings Or after Through a gap in the curtains Flying cars against a broken sky Everything thick with grot Another curtain pulled back Rocket trails curving down Like in Missile Command Only real, not blocky pixels I fought through the final curtain Like Eric Morecambe My life, documented at speed And God, it was dull. I couldn’t tear My eyes away, like watching the Big Brother housemates sleep In glassy-eyed night vision I couldn’t stay, couldn’t go Mustn’t leave, had to leave Couldn’t, mustn’t meet myself Shutters rattled, blinds rolled Curtains parted and I found myself In a bland, #liminal space, a place between places That looked like nowhere, reeked of nothing And sitting crosslegged before me Was Wide-Eyed Trevor ‘You took your time,’ he grinned. ‘Nice gloves.’

A Poem a Day, Day 171: The End Cubicle - Wide-Eyed Trevor, pt 3.

#vss365 #parallel #liminal #readthefirsttwo #narrativepoem #poetrycommunity #poetryofbluesky