Janice you thought
prettier than Helen
more refined

whose voice
was softly spoken
as if her words

had been fresh baked
in an oven
in her mouth

and her hair fair
and well groomed
but Helen had

that down to earthiness
that brought her
closer to you

and something about
her thin framed
thick lens glasses

made her seem
more lovable
to your boyish world

and she stared at you
through them
and smiled

that shy smile
and said things
with a rough edge

as if she’d bounced
the words around
before she uttered them aloud

you can come to tea
and we’ll have bread and jam
and a big mug of tea

or if mum’s remembered
lemonade
she said at playtime

in the playground
out of hear shot
of the other boys

who kicked ball
or who swapped cards
or threw marbles

along the ground
or fought battles
with imaginary swords

or shot pretend bullets
from rat-a-tat guns
and she said

to entice you more
you can see my new doll
my dad brought back

from the store
ok
you said

sure
and she smiled
and her nose creased up

and her glasses moved
and some small place
in your chest thumped

like furniture being dropped
or a bed being bounced
in some small hotel

and you watched her
go off to play skip rope
that thin framed

thick lens glasses
working-class
school girl.

The summer night
is the summer day,
in a daze, we fall asleep
in the a.m.
We wake up,
we find our friends,
we do it again.

Lamplight
can't save us now,
we're out hounding.

1+1     =  2
But in nature.
one plus one   =   three.
just there plane simple see.
three becomes 4 then 8, 16, 32, 84.
made of you and me.
So 1+1 = 84.
See the maths does not add up.
But it is 84.

What happened to the shoe the plimsoll.
Now not seen?
Has the supple and flexing rubber soul.
These day's never seen.
Came in white or black.
Some had lasses.
Some elasticated encases.
They always fitted the foot.
And to run and play.
Give me the elastic sided ones any day.
On the white ones.
You would polish them with Blanco.
To keep then witter than your teeth.
Black ones you just wash.
Teachers used for punishment.
Now my **** still has.
Blanco and Black gloss.

Come Back Plimsoll.
O Plimsoll how I miss you.
And in my past lost.

I just watched a short film
of flowers
in fast motion
and I decided
that flowers try, too,
and that they struggle
and toil
like we all do,
and I like to reconsider
what the holy men
have said,
because maybe
they were wrong
and just saying things
like we all do,
and I like to doubt
the holy books
because they might be wrong
and just saying
old, handed-down garbage
or maybe not,
so I reconsidered the lilies
and found that they do indeed
toil and spin,
and they do dress nicely.

So, the window
is open
and a lawnmower
is speaking
in mechanical tongues
as the weather
in early spring
is warm and nice
and the birds
are, you know,
well, birds,
and a friend told me
a long time ago
that Detroit
could be completely underwater
in the future,
so even though that bothers me

I guess it's OK.