Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend
But at the cost my dear, at the cost
Of never boring them, you are their
Entertainment, they are your love.

Diamonds if they could talk would tell
A causatory tale of distance and dirt
You, a perfect diamond, a pure light
In the compressed dirt of their lives.

Diamonds reflect the compression
Which is the brevity of our lives
What remains forever of a passing
Love that would be forever distant.

The annual cycle of friends and family, meeting
An oil and water duty of circumstance, intersecting
At Christmases and global conferences, occasioning
Probable murders at Christmas in the families, mixing
Their duty to drink but live distant lives apart, loving
The comfortable satisfaction of the distance, living
Their lives with social media connections, liking
The comfort of ignoring without unfriending
Their oil and water friends and family.

So

I have supplanted this duty with desire, allowing
Me to unfriend these occasional friends, becoming
Myself at last with a vicarious pleasure of, enjoying
Being a stereotypical “Grumpy Old Man”, relaxing.

Waves crash into our lives in an uncomfortable reminder
That living life is much closer to survival than we hope
We watch as floods wreak havoc with disconnected concern
Thankful that fate meant it was they not us this time.

Waves flood into our memory like a bad disaster movie
That losing life is much nearer to probability than we wish
We watch as winds break boundaries with a guilty glee that
Tempts fate will make certain that it will be us next time.

Familiar “Buenos dias” from Bianca again,
Sandwiched, betubed with 5000 miles to go,
The blue-black spaceness of the endless sky,
And runwayless earth of comfortable clouds,
Reflecting on what has been and is yet to come,
A million miles of poetry, pain and pleasure,
Star Trek on the TV, seared Tilapia on my plate,
Flying to you for a first-date hello-again feeling.

Before was cool, after was a relief,
The “gift” delivered intact,
Is four hour operation normal?
Pain, pleasure and purpose,
Concern that the 10% rejection
Will be my kidney – only one to spare,
So far so good, after four weeks,
Thinking that my surgeon has a frown
At being called a butcher.

In a moment she catches my eye,
The glance, the quiet smile for me,
I know the look, it was all it took,
For Cupid’s arrow to find it’s mark.

Sometimes after breakfast coffee,
And maybe after lunchtime snack,
And often after romantic dinner,
She looks at me and then I know.

That life is good and we are right,
And all the problems of the light,
Will be put to rest in bed tonight,
With just a look my fears take flight.

Five, ***, seven
If and only if,
You are from Belfast.

If this is true
Why did they not focus on the ***?

“Make Love not War” etc.

Who really cares about religion?

Especially today.