Nothing Was Quite Right

I thought I would leave the city behind

and go to the beach that day

but it was too cold for bikinis 

and in spite of being August

with bright summer light

it was buttoned up winter there.

So I returned to the city.

I thought a coffee would be good,

or maybe warming hot chocolate,

but when I got back nothing was quite right. 

the people were silent

and the cafe was topsy turvy,

had tipped over 

on to it’s side.

I couldn’t find a way to get in,

a way to sit down and place my order.

So I walked down the streets.

They too were silent

and I wondered how long

it would be before they became topsy turvy too.

Or perhaps they’ll stay the right way up, 

I couldn’t say.

I had no voice.

I tried to cross the bridge,

but it had become the wrong shape 

too steep 

to walk over

even in my tough boots

and I was disconcerted by my silent steps.

The buildings still looked pretty,

they weren’t quite right either

standing there without a creak

or slam from an open door.

Even later, when I woke up

it was still all wrong,

still wordless,

all voices stilled

and nothing was ever

quite right again.

And nothing 

was ever

spoken

again.

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