warm belly soup

how is it that
birds don’t get blown away in the wind?
did they teach planes how to fly?
are they friends,
birds and planes?
do cows like being here?
do statues never move,
not even at night?
will they stay still
even when rocks begin to move?
will the wind sit inside a bus
and buy a ticket to somewhere?
will a rock?
will some clouds
exclude other clouds
when they meet the stars
on a secret night
in a secret corner
in the dark?
and what do elephants think
of elephant statues?
can you look out of the window
and see no forms?
just colours changing
from one to another,
formless changing colour.
a lady in the bus
seems territorial
of her children
and her bag
and some men seem lost.
the bus seems tired.
it is complaining today
about having to carry along
so many smells at one time
without mixing them up-
coconut oil, flowers, sweat,
did they buy a ticket too?
there is a bridge
with water on either side.
it greets the bus uninterestedly.
too many times has it grumbled along.
the thing about grumbling buses is,
they lose their novelty
faster than non-grumbling buses.
the water is busy
convincing the sun
to make love to it.
the trees are waiting
for the buildings to collapse
so that they can be
the tallest again.
the trees will win
because they are green,
and green means tall
and tall means green.
if i could steal
all the round bellies
of all the fat men
along the way
and chop them up
to make some warm belly soup,
no plants, no animals
would have to die.
and then also
there would be
no round bellies to feed.
but then..
should we be eating round bellies?
how would they feel?



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