Loco Motivus, poetry by Pedro la Fuego at Spillwords.com

Loco Motivus

Loco Motivus

written by: Pedro la Fuego

 

The boy turned into man and found himself.

The loco motivus was a can of sardines

That lurched and screeched around every street and every corner of the city.

The man sat content and knew his route well.

Around the Pavilion and towards the sea, doubling back onto North street with the people the pigeons and the traffic stops.

The images flash past quickly at first but slow when traversing the ascent.
They are together, but apart. The streaming scenery rolling by.
They are apart but living within it, living through it.

A character in a painting, a thread on a grand tapestry.

It’s a cinematic experience but one from the 50’s when TV was young and fractured. The flow of the scenes is blurred at times and it goes fast at some and at others not at all.

The sardines are packed tightly and some salty.
Public transport.
A means of mass delivery of the poor,
of people without the means or the know how.

A poverty safari where the beasts sit next to you
But they have places to go, meetings to make and appointments due.
Some are even going to work.

Bus stop wankers the lot of them. Says a man in a white van.

The man enjoys his work and keeps the far side ear connected to music. He listens to Dub Reggae and makes effortless turns.

He feels relaxed in the traffic
and the angry man shreiks but the man feels calm.
The man has escaped, the man has satisfaction.

It’s the small things content and alone.
Those who don’t understand isolation will never know.
The man surrounded by bodies waiting for exits and greetings with an auspicious regard of the day and the luck finding of the moment and what is to come. He’s indifferent but pleasant

Escape,

routine,

predictable stability,

Money,

Purpose

Bliss.

Sysiphus happy in his work.

All lucky men find work that satisfies them that fits
And not one role is more important than another.

A bird finding its place in the sky.

I stick out a thumb and tap a card.

And eyes meet

He knows and so do I

And we ride like that with our sacred pact.

And the driver knows and so do I

Where heaven is.

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