Three Poems by Bill Jansen

Flurries
I'm not convinced that it is snowing.
I could have lapsed into a stealthy coma
after shutting off the engine
in a Safeway parking lot.

A seal pokes its head
up out of a hole in the asphalt
into the flurries.



off the rail
I float it
on Main St.
music in armpits
then flick flick flick

--times I will
times I doesn't
it flop..
it wasn't.

clickety click

ah cigar relit

skate board
down
terror
sidewalks--

admiring everything.



Between Clouds
She had enough towels
to soak up Bonneville Reservoir.

I took over the cockpit
with an unexpected quip
and a can of Draino,
told the pilot to wash his prurient wit
down the sink.

Alice--who got to be the stewardess
by sheer perkyness--
had totally fooled the TSA,
and me.

Submissive passengers
ordered to keep their dirty hands
out where Alice could see them.

It all started on an economy flight
from PDX to Phoenix.

I swear I saw my face
floating on a body of water
far below between the clouds.



Bill Jansen lives in Forest Grove, Oregon. His works appears here and there in various ezines, including The Centrifugal Eye and Asinine Poetry.