after a few bottles o’ Tom
at the world’s end
I start talking
to Karen whose fingers
were freezing at first
& Pru
a friend o’ hers.
But it was Karen  - woollen  
pale
Australian -
who started
wanting my pockets  
in the mitre
who began teasing me
with are m’ hands cold? Are they?
as we steadied each other
on the slippery cobbles   close.
It was Karen
who started
whispering warmly
on a wheel
o’ ice groaning :
we kissed once in London
& almost there again
I replied:
I know!  was  Xmas Eve
Heathrow somewhere

a royal mile in the snow
was all it took to thaw   *I know!

the rain is coming

it is hot     and wet
and ten o’clock
when you turn up
in a black
cab
a red
hibiscus
in your hair

it is hot     and wet
and ten o’clock
when we talk
on the roof
in a high
bombardment
of positive ions
it is hot     and wet

and ten o’clock
when the last
hopeful swoop
of a  fruit bat
finds a limb and is still
so some
thing will
happen    and it will
you promise me it will

the rain is coming