T.V.
In the slightest thing,
imagining another moment long.
Fascinated by being;
exuberant lover.
Bubble-gum face
marching forwards
not looking, lights go off.
Keeping strong calm waves intact,
floating but not being carried away.
My emotional rucksack,
squandered but clean.
Diamond earrings wonder;
serene village feelings.
Alone with her big stone house,
husband gone.
Erupted silence,
visions imploded,
daydreams re-visited.
Quarreled out, home
Clickety-click,
no trouble no sticks.
Felatio wonderful,
common as muck
but better than mud
showing white teeth that smile.
Wave if you can.
Frightened of seeing,
the distance comes near,
following the footsteps you hear.
Bacon on bread.
Jasmine on windscreen wiper,
Buckets of flowers:
my dad’s finest hour.
Telling the wide-screen to shut up,
she can’t hear herself humming
a bumblebee song.
Chaos in a can on a shelf:
“Love me if you can.”
Expressing messages in the moment,
seeking questions that match answers,
voicing more than an opinion.
stretching cables to meet the point of contact.
Helpful ever after.
Ringing bells, lots of doorbells,
exchanging the greatest things
on Saturday afternoons.
Smouldering white water
echoing the night’s affair.
Still cross with the telly
because it won’t turn over
on it’s belly.
30.03.03