The Invisible

It’s there
Tangible as rock
Vivid as the red dusk at a seaside town you’ve never visited.
See it without looking
Don’t know what it is
Don’t have to revisit it
It’s there
You don’t have to tell where
No need to disgrace it with words
Or definition
It’s the invisible
It’s all ours
The devil in your pocket
The angel on your shoulder
Invisible lips whispering bittersweet nothings
Telling you stories that keep you awake
And longing.

The Invisible
We all have it
The Something we never should have thought
We all do it
Blink and it’s gone
We feel hoodwinked
At never having experienced it
Zoom
At the turn of a blind eye
We glimpse it.
It’s the backseat driver in a stolen car
Eyes highlighted in the rear-view mirror
Mouth half grinning in the wing mirror
And he’s bellowing orders
None of the other pool-side typists can hear.
He’s demanding you go faster than your fear
Faster than you’ve ever gone
You stop for a second
Screech to a halt
Wondering if you’ll ever obey him
It’s then you lose your rhythm
A colleague turns
Sees your spelling mistake
And your escaping eyes
Direct her to the Invisible
She can’t see it
But she knows it’s there
And that half-second revealing pause
Will never be forgotten
Or spoken of.

The Invisible
The outside of teaching
In other words
What we’ve not been taught
It can’t be
Because as we all know
There’s no such thing
As invisible chalk.