I saw Enid’s old man
leave the flats

morning grey
chill
sky
cannon smoke colour

he walked down the *****
I gave an
up you finger sign
once he'd gone

and I went upstairs
to Enid’s flat
and knocked
at the door

the door opened
a narrow slit
Enid's mother
peaked at me
through the gap

what do you want?
she asked

can I borrow sugar
for my mum?
I said

she hesitated
gazed at me

guess so
wait there

and she went
and closed the door

I gazed over
the balcony
the milkman's horse
was eating
from a nosebag

some kids were playing ball
by the pram sheds

the door opened
and Enid showed
with a bag of sugar

how much you need?
Enid asked

I gazed at her thin frame
her hand shaking
a slight bruise
over her right eye

I saw your old man go
I said

she looked at me
with wide eyes

had a go at you I guess

she said nothing
offered me
the bag of sugar

aren't you cold
standing there
in that white nightie?
I asked

a bit

can I come in?

she shook her head
best not
she said
Mum's not up to visitors

OK
I said

I took the bag of sugar
and she stared at me

see you at school
I said

she nodded
and closed the door

I walked downstairs
no more bruises
I mused
than I'd seen before.

Ingrid stares
at the sea
the wild waves
the seagulls

we've come down
on the coach
from London
organised
by the church
of gospel
worshippers

what are those?
she asks me

they're seagulls

do they bite?

I don't know
want ice cream?

her brown eyes
gaze at me

no money
she tells me

I’ve got some
I tell her

is there lunch?
she asks me

I think so
there's money
from the church
for us kids
from poor homes
I tell her

her brown hair
is pinned back
by steel grips

she smiles wide
her rather
mild buckteeth
beam at me

fish and chips?
she asks me

I guess so

can I be
your girl friend
for the day?

want ice cream?

O yes please
she utters

I go get
2 ice creams
from a van
parked near by

what you want?
the guy asks

2 ice creams
with choc flakes

I watch him
fill 2 cones
with ice cream
then plonk in
2 choc flakes

I walk back
to Ingrid
here you are
I tell her

she takes one
and we walk
on the beach
in the sand
8 year olds
hand in hand.

I am consciously willing into existence the day,
when it won't be so hard for us to love each other.

Hitting my own nerves,
I subject myself to the reading of words
Before the curve,
Unheard
Does anyone take the time to heal
all the other wounded birds?

Aren't both sides gathering the nerve?
Weaved into the world,
Darkness
Clutched round their hearts and necks to preserve
like strings of pearls
A world breeding monsters
out of innocent little girls.

Real-
is the courage to wake everyday.
your heart refusing to not play
its song.
with a bountiful, limitless forte.
No mezzo, no piano.
Life is the finest concert hall and stage.
And I will never
ever
refuse to play.

I sit here, night after night, pouring myself into the cracks of history, bathing in obscure knowledge for the sake of trying to aquire some sort of superiority. Pointless. I've been burying myself in dusty scraps of information since I was a boy, and none of it has prepared me for you. You throw the beauty of an experience across my shoulders like a blanket and I shrug it off with mere facts and annotations, as if I'm afraid of what it would mean to accept the simplicity of you reaching out to me, not to explain but to share. The simple fact is that I withdrew from things a very long time ago and now I don't know how to come back. Always I must explain and analyze, pry up old tombstones thinking that if I can only find some kind of secret that I'd be able to step back into life. You told me that I hold too much back. You're right. I hold most everything back, bury it in the mass grave where I dumped the corpses of many selves. I don't know how to participate in life anymore, only to observe and calculate. And I'm afraid that if I can't figure out how to change that, it will strangle us.