#1
septic, toxic, sceptical ick -
and gladiatorial combat hand to tooth to nail
a skullnut loose.
it was through the window like a carrot arrowing to the head
of a nearby Bugs.
I saw things, man.
I saw a crispy wanton slide down the back of the couch, sack-first,
a flaky parachute disintegrate in the decline.
I saw a glass of grapefruit juice thrown back in one repulsive swallow.
yellow teeth suck in cigarette smoke in the garden under a postcard dusk hiding from the unknown neighbourhood watch.
shouting at empty rooms.
ugly thwackings of palm against red-laden forehead.
then sporting a winter coat on a sun-soaked dancefloor spectacles off hair drifting
north-east in uncaring road fashion,
wingmanning,
whiskied,
vague stubble,
grappling -
a rat-a-tat realisation on the beat of an awkward grind with a faceless behind -
that you're mine and I'm yours and the pithy darkness of it all now
cracks jokes
and reads beat poetry
and slides shots of vodka to me across the kitchen counter
and lingers for another wide-eyed gaze
and takes every opportunity for a smile,
and I've seen things, man,
things so harrowing you would not believe,
but then on the next slide:
you, lily-pad, pond skater,
rippling with empathy,
building walls.