Familiar Uknown (Force of Nature)

The pull of home brings footsteps back
to pad corridors that cannot tell email from teeth.
And as familiar as the public are
with voices and the tilt of necks,
bricks see nothing
while flowers spew their froth,
no lights in warren solitude.
That knuckled spook in gartered, cotton gown
may as well send its ghost to roam
amongst the propped up eyeless vinyl
on Ikea avenue.
Lost man out of style
in a Geronimo moment of masks and streets,
inbetween the grey and cold.

Tap
tap tip tap,
naked bones on keen heels.
One gone again to internet jars,
tap and then another,
famous names used like towels,
off to delirium beds at last...

@Steven Francis poems 2012