Walking with the sun behind
eyes fixed on my worn boots
as they try to find the old stride
each time they lift, this still winter light
flicks ahead under them, easy as,
like nothing’s changed
but when they fall, this light cuts,
mud grips and boots go blind

A pin
asking just enough of the taught surface
to make it give

bang-burst a gust
of shameful, baleful disappointment
snuffing embarrassed cake candles

or gush a splat of misery
to spatter snot and tears
halting high squeals on a summer lawn
as eyes look for answers

With mixed and barbed emotions
these thick and heavy days defy physics
individually grinding
yet weekly whipping by

But in this treacled maelstrom
Friday’s unique frisson
still brings a cheeky tickle

We drive through the dark
to her home,
radio lulling small back seat bodies,
so late that our DJs have hushed
and only the rustling burr
of an AM station remains,
in and out like consciousness
with songs of eternal love,
bread of heaven
ar hyd y nos

Friends cause ructions,
paroxysms,
liminal and otherwise

but the constancy of those
who count neither shaven off
nor with fingers on the scale
are the whole of my heart

Stuck on the actual prime meridian
where gambling and grown up shenanigans
are viewed all *****
hurting society, though I could legally go to the drain on my street
and drop a thousand twenty pees in it
nae bother
our equivalent bet
as high rollers we are surely not

I miss you Vegas
with your daft anti-reality cushions,
the strip with no history or heritage
necessarily
but with goofy drunken dreams brimming alive

and I know vice, bad, horror, addiction yadda yadda

I miss you Vegas

Bone tired, petal and stem
still crave the light.

The fug has muted us
putting aches where shines were
but the yearning for the thorn and burr
of every normal day persists

My skin is ready to be kissed
with burn and nettled rash again
to give me pause for actual thought