OI, WHAT YOU LIKE?:

Yawning,
Staring,
Vibrating,
Spaced,
Reading,
Rocking,
Sleeping,
Escaping,
Travelling,
Tunnelling,
Observing,
Scratching,
Clutching,
Gripping,
Dazing,
Glazing,
Pushing,
Shoving,
Apologising,
Shifting,
Fumbling,
Accepting,
Drifting,
Grumbling,
Tapping,
Playing,
Listening,
Moving,
Accommodating,
Ogling,
Smiling,
Frowning,
Looking down,
Looking down,
Looking down,
Fidgeting,
Flinching,
Flicking,
Facing,
Folding,
Flickering,
Ticking,
Blinking,
Squealing,
Slipping,
Whispering,
Nudging,
Fingering,
Waiting,
Chewing,
Shuffling,
Coughing,
Covering,
Prodding,
Wiring,
Arriving,
Leaving,
Listening,
Zoning,
Sneezing,
Wearing Black.

(K)

COMMUTING:

“I assure you, I’m not gonna wait.” – she says
“The next train is in forty minutes. I’ll be home at eight, right?”
He grunts into his fist,
“If you park up & wait, I’ll see you.” – she says
Fingers dancing wild across the face of a tiny electric friend
nesting in the palm of her hand. The sound of her nails, the rattle
of her ring, drives me crazy in the glow of a pink sun.
Predictive text wants to write ‘sin’, I grin, remembering.

A right city-geezer purses his lips, nods his head, talking football,
in a clean white shirt, watches the world slip into the past, frozen
wonderland. The woman with the crazy rattle finger prods the face of
her electric familiar, frantic. Strokes a chin, receives responses,
winces, mutters, sighs. The football pundits revel in the luxury of
distance, submerged in psychology, formations, tactics, the comfort
of distance.
“They had numbers on their backs, but they could’ve played anywhere!”

A couple kiss.

The tapping woman moans imperceptibly, repeatedly touching her lips.
Words form in her breath. Her tiny moans repeat into rhythms.
She stands to leave. I remain seated. She dresses.
We haven’t arrived yet.

(K)

FOUR WAY THIRTY NINE:

I remember something primal,
I remember softened edges,
I remember stubble scraping the skin,
I remember a silky smooth alternative,
I remember dreading the moment,
I remember exhilaration,
I remember dancing in the rain,
I remember doing the twist,
I remember not knowing what the hell I was doing,
I remember howling like dog.

(K)

TURNER’S EYES:

A powerful hit of vanilla in heels pushes through crowds,
rushing to get to Wonderland. Women do their eyes, heads
nodding on rocking trains, clutching fairytale snails,
cat hats in sparkle dancing shoes. Grandmothers hands protect
the innocent, gentle smile repel danger, witnessed everywhere.
A fringed sued book curls behind the ankle of a skinny Black jean,
listening to wires, looking distant through Turner’s eyes.

(K)

ONE NIL:

The girl with a ring through her nose does make up, holding onto
the pole, rocking in the carriage of a District train.
Dressed in oversized Black, that familiar ugly crap discarded by
the ’80s. Had we been the same age, her confidence would’ve
cut me to a maggot, but she blinks first, unable to sustain her
fragile disdain. I grin back through the rings of her charcoal eyes,
she looks down. No animals allowed in daylight on the underground.

(K)

MAP OF NAMES:

The Gulf of Orb,
The Henry Kater Peninsula,

Pechora,
Naryan-Mar,

Disko,
Sengeyskiy,
Velt,

Timansky Bereg,
Soyma,
Urdyuzhkoye.

(K)

ANISEED & LIQUORICE:

A woman talks loud in a crowded place, gives away the plot of
every film you were thinking of seeing. Too posh, too plum,
loving the sound of her own mouth, talking over the mouse woman
she kidnapped for company, watches too much TV. I’m glad she’s
not my wife, bull horn, fog horn, silver stamp on the handle of
her knife, never shuts up, God help us!

(K)

SHIFTY SUCKS THE STRAW:

Ice floating in a mango sea, a brass-eyes-cow establishes the sun.
Looking out across the estuary to Essex where the sky is a shell,
we listen to the waves through clouds.

(K)

DIGITAL HERO:

Keep a promise, a bowl of coffee to kick-start the morning.
Surfing the news, relentless dark broadcasters. Play the flute,
set the mood, table for one, Indian restaurant across from
the station. It’s OK, I’m doing it alone tonight & it’s OK.
You don’t have to worry about me or hang around fussing.
I can eat with my mouth & everything.

How’s this?
How’s that?
Nod my head,
Sweet & Hot,

Good to have you back,
Man in Black,
Chastised for hands concealed behind the back by servants of
the shrine,
Keep everything in plane sight or they’ll think you’ve got
something to hide,
Shifty leaves a smile.

Richie Havens – ‘Here Comes The Sun‘

(K)

“IT’S FUNNY WHEN DOGS LOOK LIKE MEN”, SHE SAID:

Sat in the corner, staring at the future, pressing buttons,
functions make you feel better. What’s that song going round
in your head? A dream, disturbing last night’s sleep, a vision,
another premonition, wreathed in clouds of faces.
“It’s funny when dogs look like men”, she said, the barmaid stooped
to stroke & glanced, waiting between shifts in porches smoking
cigarettes. “This isn’t my jacket”, she said like I’d gave a…
busy chasing sculptures & poetry, walking late nights in the rain,
clutching suit case at the seaside out of season.

(K)