I’m gonna go to the supermarket
take 11 items to a “10 or less” queue,
then eat the “special offer”
before I pay, remembering nothing.
I might, Lounge at the bank
deposit all my heavy, small change,
in the monday morning queue,
tie my dog to a guy’s leg as I wait.
Stand in the cinema foyer,
ask directions to the erotic bookshop,
casually give away the plot
to the “Sixth sense.”
Later, Idle on the corner with soap
and razor, offer to shave old ladies
upper lip moustaches.
Blow smoke rings through the gaps
in the library bookcases when backs
are turned to the clock.
I feel like causing a little mischief.
