Sittin on the Dock of the Bay

Can I expect the world to hold on its turning
never a second breaks
without new breaths unfurling
every second aches
It is etched in the glass I drink from
the lip's residue of glazed food
ticking upon the sun
the trickling sands I view
Summer, expendable, dwindling, reaches
a new forray into sublime
and bayside a preacher preaches
a new meaning to ripe time
There's a boat to carry those
spending the time life bought
with fleshed dallores
and here we keep the catch we caught
Each of us sailing an impenetrable sea
passing hands against the glaring sun
we're all ripe from the breeze
and we'll sink when we're done

Foreigner in a Native Land

Hi...
Smacks gum. Hi.
I'm here for my appointment.
She flips through her book, Name?
I lean over the counter and whisper it to her, watching her eyes as the cognitive gears whir.
You? In the papers?
Shh. Please.
Yeah, sure, I thought they had you nailed. Everybody in the town has been searching for you. I didn't recognize y...
Yeah. Can I go in?
Let me tell him your in, you aren't going to do anything are you?
I stared at her, I'm innocent, I gave her my innocent smile.
Okay..... be back in a second.
I waited, sitting beside a businessman.
He watched me.
I watched him.
He looked at my legs, then looked away nervously.
I picked up a magazine to hide my skirt.
He looked back.
Watch it kid.
What?
Shhh, holding a finger to my lips. It echoes really easy in here.
What?
I started reading an article in the magazine, and he stared at me.
I guess we're all in here for the same reason.
I felt the wh... forming on his lips. Then it registered.
Yes.

Except.

What?
Nothing.
Good.
You look familiar?
...Not a smart move.
No I don't.
Okay.
Okay.
Door opens back up.
He'll see you now, quickly.
Bye kid.
Whaa...
Don't bother. I smoothed my skirt back over.

He was standing in the hall.