With nothing better to do, he will sit
On the sagging couch, watching it.
From time to time he will throw
His alligator a bone
While glazed eyes shall gaze
At re-reruns of the same show.
No, he won’t turn to stone.
No, sometimes he shall wake,
To visit the bathroom, the refrigerator
or walk the alligator -
All in the space of a commercial break.
What’s this weird people-watching thing anyway? Why we sit in a cafe and stare at innocent coffee-drinkers, philosophers, fakirs, fakers, dads-with-newspapers, made-up maamis, blue-eyed babies, grown up grannies and growly grandpas while downing a whole lot of kaapi is beyond me. This is what transpired from sitting at the Airlines Hotel with Pencil Jam ce matin.