Who’s Hungry
by Fanz Hugo
Feeling down.
Walking ’round.
Sadly moved by
a mellow song.
On the street.
Down the train.
Bus delayed by
the pouring rain.
Back to you.
No, you two.
Who’s hungry?
Me too.
{END}
Swing, Slide, Ducks
Swing, Slide, Ducks
by Fanz Hugo
Swing, slide, ducks.
That’s what she said,
waking up from
a nice afternoon nap.
Being fearless on a swing,
with one hundred and twenty
degrees of the whole
world to live through.
The fear of the slide
came from growing heavy
enough to drop out of it
and hit the ground.
The ducks are so many.
Always happy to see any.
When they’re gone,
Always happy to move on.
So the routine started
to stick. When asked
how her nap is:
swing, slide, ducks.
{END}
Like Ten Years
Like Ten Years
(A Love Song Unsung with The Words of Brett Anderson)
By Fanz Hugo
Like kids
Like refugees
Like a thousand you-and-mes
Like friendships
And well-done fish and chips
Like trash
And chemistries
Like dog man stars
Like we’re he-and-shes
Like ten years of hit and miss
Like fools
And tools
Like winter sons and sisters
Like relationships
And their still warm guns
Like ten years
Such as from
2005 to 2015
You and me, we’re
No longer where we’ve been
{END}
Book is a Weird Creature
Book is a Weird Creature
by Fanz Hugo
Book is a weird creature,
Who’s alive only when it’s read.
And knowledge a lame teacher:
who teaches only when it’s shared.
{END}
A Girl’s Gone in a Dream on January 10, 2014
A Girl’s Gone in a Dream on January 10, 2014
by Fanz Hugo
Last night I had a dream.
In a neat hotel room,
for the time or date is irrelevant,
I found the utmost peace of mind.
I was laid low and couldn’t see
beyond the window.
But out of ridiculous confidence
I know what I’d see.
A quiet urban community,
wide streets with shadowing trees,
the sky azure –
oh that I can be sure.
A dozen children
running on the square;
a shy boy reading alone,
too amused to care.
The protagonist’s one and only love,
a smiling girl who likes grey doves,
was walking towards the crossroad,
where the antagonist was waving to her,
with a large bunch of roses to hold.
The rest is irrelevant now,
since it always ends with a bow.
Then she’s gone.
{END}
The Box of Shame
The Box of Shame
by Fanz Hugo
He knew it was coming.
Eventually he was given
The Box of Shame,
by his favorite employer.
He kept quiet as usual
and walked slowly
out of the building,
holding the box.
Everyone on the bus
glimpsed at it. It was
just too obvious
to ignore the notion.
A youngster, holding
his smartphone, came up
to him and asked,
“Mind if I take a photo?”
He looked up
at the young man
and paused for a brief second,
then started smiling.
“You see, that’s the spirit!
No I don’t mind! Not at all!”
{END}
11:55AM on a Workday
11:55AM on a Workday
by Fanz Hugo
It’s five to twelve,
when the station goes
ephemerally silent
with walking ghosts.
Even musicians take
the moment to enjoy
yet another prelude
to the instant chaos.
AM to PM sounds
like a huge shift,
like from night to day.
Nothing happens.
Not much chitchat
aboard the train.
Two young women
talk loudly. Don’t care.
One elder woman
takes her nap,
looking up whenever
the voiceover starts.
The next station
is High Park,
where the sakura trees
are dying of old age.
If I was a writer,
I’d tell the story
of their afterlives
in Japanese.
Waiting is the only
condolence that seems
to matter for now,
here at the station.
{END}
Young Legs in Spring
Young Legs in Spring
by Fanz Hugo
It’s morning again,
but morning is commuting.
Young legs of schoolgirls
in uniform fill the train.
An occasional teenager
sits and nudges her fingers,
with her annoyed father
standing by in silence.
White legs, dark legs,
socks and playful skirts.
All are impatient,
especially in the morning.
Young legs are slim and fast,
roaming the escalator,
up to the station exit.
They never stop stretching.
For once, she stands still,
hands down helping
her skirt fight the wind outside,
waiting for her pals to come.
Her future rivals. Or lovers.
Who knows. It’s up to her.
Two young legs will
walk elegance in spring.
{END}
Fanz Hugo 