Not quite right side of the street

Smiles fully reaching eyes tend to scare 
them away...moving lips speaking ever so softly
receive second and third glances...whispering
shyly behind hands and fans cutting cross eyes
side ways..trying to get a full  view  of 
what exactly falls from stagnation tongue..

fingers tap out syllables to a beat against
crisp white khaki , bop.. bop.. bop
tap.. tap..tap... tick.. tick.tick. boom clap..
boom .. CLAP..head rocking to and fro .. side to side...
become center lined  after each spasms..

legs quaking the floor of impatience
toe tapping to the baseline of finger drum line..
soft unseen ticks that twitch beneath the skin
singing mumble jumble tunes in harmony
with Nothing....


Until eyes close... and grasp within fingers
pencils begin to bled led on pages
capturing  each uncontrollable tick..  
watching words rocking to the beat
of subtle chaos .. flowing from this
mind maze.. piecing together
this road that brought you here... knocking
on nowhere better half door... tapping out
the answers to the riddle heard
between each pause ..

watching..
.
.
. 

the changeling born from unheard ramblings 
speak softly against your ear.. its
ability to mingle or mangle the fence 
of insane and sanity..
without the need of those
blue and green pills 
because he always played 
on not quite right street
where yellow lines always 
zigzag...