I appear to have found your address
myself   I have lived in the same house
for twenty-two years
I have been meaning to write
leave an ‘xo’ of my own
tomorrow   I say   it will happen
so you know   today is not a blue day
but more   of course   will come
others from long ago
have blown away   naturally
age will do this to us
circumstances   relationships
only widen the gap
I do not converse with them anymore
they will miss my funeral   instead
I search for meaning in writing
happiness comes in ****** bursts
then vacuumed back up
I can only find solace in little pleasures
why has this not happened to me
what am I missing   did I lose anything
I point my finger  
I sigh   my fault
or so I tend to believe   so it goes
I carry myself as if I am a mirror
reflection the same but looking different
every day   I mean to play my guitar
in the same house I have lived in
for twenty-two years
besten wünsche   mein freund
I feast on your words
a delightful banquet
and so I said   your address
I will send you a letter

caught up in a sa of altrd imags
alcohol flowing
   rd pupils
from all th slfis
   ****
scroll up /// scroll down
m8 u waz wastd
   vryon at ach othr
voics scrambl;ing
for pol position
#popularity laddr
a flck of jalousy
   slic of malic
   *fyi
grn lights signal
sombody cars rite??
hr bgins th dz-dss-
   the dscnt into pixls
primary colours
   '*** **'
night grows old
   plot unravls lik a ball of string
coagulats thick and bad
let fingrs do the talkin' 4 u
  nams bcom strangrs
bcom nams bcom strangrs
TTYL
:)

bodies under a light
  nothing on our feet
green tea past midnight

lips spell catastrophe
  I reek of calamity
speech drops out slow

fogged-up glasses
  crackle of a packet
of chocolate biscuits

soft fingertips
  seconds swallowed
stuck in traffic

pathetic
  catch her eyes
self-induced electric shock

burnt tongue
  there sing the clocks
she lets me in

Met you in the red room.
Met you in the place
where we shattered our youth.
   I came as soon as I could
in the car, beer on my teeth
and my heart thumping mad.
You had called me up.
Dropped my phone in shock,
maybe laughed in surprise.
   Sixty miles - sixty minutes.
***** the traffic lights,
***** the state of my face,
my bloodshot eyes
yawning open with each blink.
   Inside, into our crimson heaven,
curtains drawn,
glass of milk in your hand.
The room of our eighteens
where we killed crushes,
lost bets and went home
no nearer to being adults.
   You’d put on that black shirt
I’d left one time before.
I’d forgotten all about it.
Yours now. Always yours.
   It was raining.
You gave me a towel,
I breathed in your smell.
No need for words,
I knew what you were saying.
   Took a step closer.
Both of us ready to shatter
whatever this was now.

summer          light
   drinkable
through
               yellow straws
parched grass
gasping
     for         cups
of   yummy
       liquid
boys with limp
                        fringes
awkward  
stubble
     like barcodes
girls   lap   it   up
   thirsty             dogs
   in mulberry
skirts
   cusp of            eighteen
             walking
with dragonfly wings
         sunset colours come
   ooze through
gauze
darkness on     lips
   presents a          kiss

Manhattan’s clockwork
ran just right,
   trains clanking into grey stations
where you’d stand incognito
among a knot of suited men,
   a sliver of white-hot California
slap-bang in the apple,
and now you were ready
   to sink your teeth deep.

Upon the roof,
a limp cigarette
   between two of your fingers,
scanning Park Avenue
as if it was your playground,
   an oven bloated with mayhem.
Your world and their world
captured in muted tones,
   the next phase of a life
simmering in your mind
before the snowstorm came
   and the sky faded to black.

and your     electricity
will propel   through me
   jolt me     ALIVE
make my skin   tingle
                                    this and your fingers
twirling until midnight
   chilly   trail   along   my   back
bones  I own
     played as a     silver harp

kiss me (pink)
and I’ll   sip   your smell
   like white wine
slip it under
my sleeve
   breathe easy
if you have     stained     me
with a [quick] shock of lipstick
watermelon juice
as a burn on my     neck

kiss me (red)
and my veins will i g n i t e
     a sunrise
between-our-toes
cauldrons for mouths
   burbling bits     of us
fat   happy   glistening   bubbles
wrench me
from the river   you know how
    rinse me in lilacs

kiss me (black)
and I’ll   crackle
spl int er as glass
be swept            along in neither here
               or there
lose my   taste   to the wind
fill milk-bottles to the     brim
   with inane bOO-hOOs
those bluespinksreds in-betweens
     **** me gently
(with a smile)

pigs in blankets
endless plates   vegetables
a rapid bang
   (spark)
crackers open   spill miniature
gifts   wrapping paper
in tatters
   whiff of fresh books
fizz of spines
when my finger hits page   one
thank you very much
fifty times   from everyone
moment to sit   reflect
no job   grey skies
   no worries
sleep in ( eyes )

I.

Mistletoe kisses
for the hordes of giddy folk
alcohol in blood

--------------------

II.

Presents covered up
just to be unwrapped again
a colourful waste

--------------------

III.

Evening skulks along
terrible television
Quality Street tin

Tonight
   got away from the mess
city   toothache     throb
ensemble of car horns
     shoppers throwing     money
like empty   sweet wrappers

park is better
calming me     a cup of cocoa
stepped     into Narnia
     without the wardrobe

snow   squeals   with each step
little deaths
   little graves where others have   stood
a ring of prints from   a hundred   shoes

breathe in     white silence
   find frost’s left a hypothermic   dance
between wires   of a tree
   white fibres together as arms

sweep clean   the bench
   blanket of sherbet
sit and think
how simple it is to be     forgotten
   alone   a caterpillar of tinsel
in a tattered   brown box
not allowed to   shine past
   December thirty-first

or not shine at all
   rather a rope of dud   fairy-lights
   I wonder   I wonder
lamppost emits a   frigid glow
night unfurls above my head
  
   I left my gloves
at home     again

Oxford one Thursday before Christmas.
Down Ship Street for lunch,
sticking to what we know.
Inside, into warm familiarity,
away from the chirp of bike-wheels,
tuba players and cold latching
onto our cheeks.
A trio of guys, one female at the back,
preppy students sipping coffee,
crumbs scattered like sesame seeds
over white plates and laps.
Smashmouth on the stereo,
a choice between Coke or pink lemonade
(Coke it is),
a flapjack for one-seventy if I wanted.
My stomach growls for grub.
I think of winter drizzled everywhere,
scrawl all this upon a scrap of paper
using my father’s pen.
Then a black-haired girl
with a sincere smile hands over
my baguette, chopped in two
and I think of her until we are finished,
well out the door
with my coat zipped right up.

Hadn’t changed numbers.
A voice bristled in my ear,
said why not then, it’s been years.
Months passed.
An amalgam of frail strained hearts,
smells on pillows we tried to lose.
Chose the boulevard in the end,
gaudy nostalgia blazing
like a forest fire in my eyes.
I waited.
Ran a finger over rails
those skaters we knew marked,
back when something called lust
fizzled between you them and me,
through the airwaves;
the lyrics can still trickle
on my tongue if you ask nicely.
Peroxide-blondes, men with muscles
the size of marrows,
a summer pick ‘n’ mix
lacking in looks, in fine taste.
Went to read a book in the sea
for a while,
slurped up half a pint in chapters
then lost the plot again.
That’s when you came
in polka dots,
a pack of colourful taffy
swinging idly from a wrist,
peanut-butter cups
like lily-pads on your palm.
As if you’d never left,
same number, name, face.
Forgot what goodbye was,
tripped over a lost hello.

Here's to hoping
they'll make me forget about
devil-red lips,
pockets of skin I've never touched,
coils and coils of it,
delightful nightmares
set up like mousetraps
ready to chatter together
when the hour-hand smacks eleven.
Can I extract your name
like a tooth?
You slip under the door,
into my arms,
the air you've never been
but ought to be.

Foetus,
eyes to the floor
for fifteen minutes,
ramshackle thoughts
rattle like old objects in a toybox,
lights off and imaginary people
to talk to.
Sipping fruity juice
as girls smash together.
The trivial things bring chaos
in great big buckets.
They say I’m OK;
I say I am losing it
losing it.

I welcomed you into my labyrinth,
shut all the doors,
drizzled blankets across
everything, each squashy chair
where you could rest your head,
leave remnants of you
in perfume and hair
so I wouldn’t forget.
Little pictures
developed in my hands,
a simple magic trick
which made us smile
as sniggering kids.
Then they dropped to the floor,
created a collage
of recent memories,
our private history
stationary and square.
Bricks cold as frost on grass,
you danced,
I fell deep. A soporific
multi-hued haze played in my eyes
as if it was endless hopscotch.
Sunset glazed our faces
a marmalade-orange,
we lost ourselves
in towers of books
and images
which now spread
beanstalk-like up the wall.
Pinch-marks resembled
berries on my arms,
soaking in madness,
basking in your light.
I could rest in this maze forever
you said.
Then I, in frustration,
turned over in bed.

Playing pool at 5am,
see the sun rise and seep
between mouthfuls
of double choc-chip cookies,
Mountain Dew cooling our throats
like antifreeze into a car.
I gather up your laughter for rainy days,
everything dripping in colours
that haven’t been christened.
Your fingerprint wriggles
form an island chain on the piano,
wet symbols, bathroom carpet
where you got out the shower
in a sky-blue towel;
I hid under the bed.
I tell you you’re messing
with an amateur,
kisses are pleasant glitches
but I’d miss and trip
through the open window.
My hands become flappy utensils
when I explain years months days
of apple cores piled up
behind wardrobes,
my portfolio of fiascos.
Faults are found like Easter eggs -
squeezed from toothpaste tubes,
top shelf of the oven.
This is a dark one here,
a miniature pill.
You only bring mugs
of youthful exuberance to the table.
A click. A shlock.
I turn my head,
the game lost
within a blizzard of minutes.
It’s OK I say,
I wanted you to win.

Fell asleep.
A dream within a dream.
My pillow a thin tartan blanket
we found crumpled at the back
of your cupboard,
discovered like a pearl
in an oyster or two.

Five metres away,
the sea,
graveyard of lungs
slinks kitten-like
towards the soles of our feet,
a cocktail of voices
swimming in the wind.

I scrabble for your hand.
It is smaller than I remember.
Feel the deep lines
criss-cross
across your palm,
specks of sand
corkscrew up a thumb.

Your hair is seaweed,
still dripping from when
you took a dive,
gulped up by the sea,
and gone gone gone.
I treat you
like my favourite secret.

Only an hour
has passed.
The waves shush us both
so I count the clouds.
They move as lazily
as the fingers of a clock.
And then, my eyes are shut.

The delight of it all -
rain splattering skin
like tiny knives,
back of my hair
a throng of wet
sinewy stems
plastered to my neck.

I scoff blueberry
after blueberry,
perforate each
little indigo shell,
let the taste
swell as an ulcer
at the front of my tongue.

Snow becomes slush -
graphite clumps
sliced through by bicycles,
footprints of strangers overlap,
undulate as ECG lines
down alleyways,
into dimly-lit side-streets.

A couple kiss,
their lips
a strange pinky knot
of flesh and breath
outside a bar
bunged with get lucky
guys from across the bridge.

Find a bench,
allow the metallic cold
seep into my hands
like a morphine injection,
count every dull grey building,
tighten my scarf
a bit more, a bit more.

nothing new here
     lollygagging
sunshine feebly
sneaks across   feet
     tangled   duvet
xylophone of toes
bubbles   in     lemonade
   form a circle
drink fizzles
     like the death of a firework
four   high   heels
     foxtrot upon floorboards
rainbow notes to one another
spread   out   as   dolly   mixtures
   on a table
strewn in coffee mug stains
resemble sets of braces
     crumbs on a sofa
white socks   on the radiator
shrivel and   dry
     shave but leave
barbed-wire     stubble
in the sink by accident
     fingerprints
a translucent vine
on the shower door
mine     or yours
   skin turns lychee-pink
rare   fossils
earrings sparkle under a lamp
making   pancakes
     your specialty
let my fingers     blizzard
over every part
   I haven’t found yet
chuck the   ugly   bits of me
out the window
get whipped   up
in your hurricane
     speak your name

Darkness crackles where she’s stood,
a memory in the margin.
Stories tumble on her tongue,
words scurry like leaves
back down her throat, scorch her lungs.
She is lost. Alice is lost.

Left her heels at home,
never the right weather,
sending tears in the mail to twenty addresses,
first class sealed in poppy-red envelopes.
She writes left-handed so they’d never know
it was me.
Vowels loop dreamily
but ooze as un-bandaged wounds
over each vital word, every name
she murmurs so the city can’t hear.

Streets fuse together,
melt into a concrete concoction,
a labyrinth Alice crawls through
until her knees bubble red,
ruby rivers throb in her eyes.
Turning into a zombie,
downed the wrong pills,
now her hands belong to someone else,
do what you like, what you will.

Cranberry Street to the corner of Jay.
Midnight and midday both the same.
Now out come the princes, princesses
feeding their heads, slapping money
on the table, licking wine glasses clean.
Alice finds solace in a streetlamp,
twirls like a ribbon and falls
into another crackling darkness
with no one to call.

Rolling with my thunderstorms,
violet shifts to black
and you run ashore.

Capsized outside a theatre,
I wrench you out
from the starfish glob of mess
I made, blow the grit
off your forehead,
scrabble for a candle
we can re-light together.

One time, mud snatched
at your ankles.
You screamed but I was seeing
drains and reflections
twisted in puddles
like fuzzy lines on the old TV.
A migraine came;
I threw it up into the sink
and slept.

Lost count of the times
you've tossed me out
in the snow, garbage among
banana skins, frozen earlobes,
but who chucks a duvet
over my frost-flecked skin
but you,
with a clumsy smile
and mascara raining
down cheeks.
Every time.

Tonight I find you
in the evening fog
after searching
every subway station
my legs would allow.
My shins cry for rest.
The busker plays
Bob Dylan out of tune
but can’t blame a guy for trying.

You discover my eyes,
put your face to my coat,
mumble words like you have
a mouthful of ice.

Lookin’ for a friend?
The 11.04 towards
Borough Hall.
We get on, I catch your breath,
count the hundreds
and thousands of steps
to home.

Not for the first time,
clusters of heads
turn in her direction,
pupils dazzled by a mannequin
in high-heels
click-clacking down Lexington
one September.
Spilt your drink.
Close that mouth
and remember to blink.

Every trail of sentences
a sultry whisper,
steam billowing out
from a red teapot
while whorls of hair
whipped up like meringue
glisten in sunlight.
Teeth as white as opals,
she’ll give you a wave
if you hand her a smile.
Watch the step now.

Two legs,
a dress,
enough on show.
Trains of men
topple over
into a pool of lust
like helpless little dominoes,
catching her giggles
as they trickle
along every avenue.

They all want a sip
of her delicious potion
she carries in the breeze.
A smudge of cherry lipstick,
a dash of pink glitter,
a lethal glimpse at you
and a wink,
enough to make you say
what's her name?
and forget your own
until you slowly, slowly,
turn back the other way.

All we are,
delightfully lost.
Is that all it is?
Heading feet-first into sunsets.
Whirlwinds.
We crash, grab,
forget to blink,
rely on breath alone.
Here words tumble in a torrent,
recycle in your mouth
and back out again.
Clichés cannot die.
On a loop,
a worn-down yo-yo.
I roll them out for you
on a goldenrod carpet,
you skip across them
as though they are red-hot coals.

What set you off
like a sparkler in the night?
The sea brings us love,
vice versa.
Waves like mounds of sugar
embrace your torso
in a way I can only dream of.
Camera exhausted
under the weight of today,
puddles of polaroids,
enough to smother the floor.
I smell snapdragons,
candy fizzing
on both of our tongues.
Soaked.

Fade to black.
Your language
is blossom
slinking into my ears.
Wet sand
slips in a mustard waterfall
through our fingers
and I trip over my T’s and P’s.
I’ll keep your smile
locked in my pocket
for black-cloud days.

A triplet of cartwheels,
sticky palms
and panting as if
you’ve run a marathon.
Give it a go…
I try and collapse,
a soppy sprawled mess
gawping at the sky,
before blue eyes
smash into mine
and I fall again.
Dripping.

In-between seconds.
Flaccid strands of hair,
frizzled spaghetti
clings to your neck.
The blonde grenade
I keep writing,
cannot control
but adore to see explode,
catch the thirteen
or more little fragments
of you,
keep them ‘til next time.

When you leave
I can follow your footprints,
mementos back home,
tread where you stood
and exuded light.
We sit cross-legged,
water dribbling over our toes.
I memorise your heartbeat,
you plonk your head
on my shoulder.
Minutes wash away.
Stop the clock.

I went back.
   A week later,
everything foreign,
                                 off
the map.

Rain.

   I bought
a strawberry milkshake,
your favourite
from that cafe
we had breakfast in one time,
and you told me
   your middle name
with a mouthful of croissant.
   I still don't know what it is.
It didn't taste as good
and the price had gone up.

   Carousel was closed,
found a bench,
must've slept.
   Woke up soaked,
clothes clinging to me
like Velcro,
dog taking a leak,
watch said midday.
     Went walking.

More rain.

It took your footprints,
snatched them     away.
I couldn't find our castle,
that too had succumbed,
crumbled to pieces
like you     and     me
and     you.

   I can still smell the sea
   on your shoulder-blades,
in your hair,
on the gap
between your   nose
and your   lip.
   Didn't like being tickled
but I did it anyway...
you still laughed
and made black days
wildly red.

   A memory,
memories
trickling as bathwater
down a plughole.
   We ate raspberries,
     threw   rocks,
danced about like   rag-dolls
to songs we'd just made up.
I called you Ringo,
you called me John.

   Now the waves,
***** diamonds
scare me as soon
as they skedaddle
over   my   toes.
   You are not lost,
and yet
I cannot find     you.

Rain.

At one
with the wind
in a midnight dress
a necklace
dripped around her throat
   like raindrops
I didn’t buy
but should have
and

how she adored
the water-lily pond
I’d paint her
in delicious shades
myriad   colours
but only an image
in the end

static

solid complete
now

heading
to Bemelmans
down Fifth Avenue
she dances
          a dragonfly
in the winter dark
I catch her
   twirl her
and the trees
don’t seem so empty

savour her voice
like fine caviar
study the   liquid   flow
of her legs
heels   clicking on cobbles
my left foot
     twists
and I     wobble
breathe in her laugh

a detour
a walk into the park
skips   along
   snow-sieved   paths
her hair
a merry   jazz
in the bitter air
the strangers
think we are weird
and we find Alice

motionless in moonlight
a kiss on a cheek
sway     circularly
until everything
smashes into a blur

and we spill

giggle like kids
seventeen again
can’t drink enough
of the evening
I ended up
     in Wonderland

what would it be like to drown?
Water sloshing in my ears,
everything black. Wobbly.
Cold and useless
you said.

Would I wash up on the beach?
Seaweed laced between my toes,
a mannequin. A soft toy.
Drenched and dead
you said.

Would someone save me?
Hurl my floppy body out
the sea like a wreckage.
Lay one on my sand-splashed lips
you said.

Would you miss me?
I'm too much of a scaredy-cat
anyway. Think I'll watch
the sun sink with you instead,
you said.

mornings become   afternoons
   become nights
two   jobs     I juggle
     just so I can say
   fresh   money in my   purse
     for things I do/don't need
a mahogany     umbrella stand
gorging     bottles of beer
     chest of     drawers
   from that vintage store

     guy at the window
fancies a macchiato
   any second now
   whatshisname     from the bank
   loose tie yet   again
will come in
     expect an     espresso
not in the mood
   only   thinking
     about   rent this month
     some dude     last night
clattered into me
a drunken   haze of words
    sticky kiss   on my fringe
    slapped him     so he grabbed me
   rectangular ****
migraine like     Vesuvius

     clean a table
   know he's looking at me
     turn   around
hides     behind the Times
latte latte latte
     chuck it over some   Asian’s lap
sorry   about that
   I'll get you another     one
so not with it
   all I can     see
spread out as items
     at a flea     market
snow umbrella
rent   ***
   book kiss
milk     orange
     blood   money
alone
coffee

Last night
I held out my palm
to catch hailstones

to store under floorboards
where all bad things are kept
like spoiled apples,

letters paralysed by tears,
junk I bought
then jammed into toasters

so at least I could say
I put them somewhere.

It feels chillier
when nobody's about,
and the roads

and alleyways
are clogged
with silence,

the inescapable
winter blackness.

I find your name
on my window
drooling away,

a skeletal row
of faded transparent roots
and when I woke

I desperately wished
you had put it there.

Drinks at the White Horse,
a round of alcohol
painting my throat red
and my words black;
I even spat some out
on the sidewalk,
watched them trickle
in a river
of nonsensical sentences
down the drain.

This pain - temporary
like the night,
bruises I invented
in a flurry of fury,
plum seahorse shapes
coil around the backs
of my legs,
join the dots,
one dollop next to another.

I’ll say I was attacked
by a motley clan of kids
who couldn’t even smoke
cigarettes correctly.
Oh these? Just a scuffle
from three Thursdays back,
I see the Giants lost again
what do you think about that?

Streets,
a swarm of phlegmy students
pouring out a hive of bars,
hacking into handkerchiefs
like broken motors.
Perry Street passes by
in a red-brick blur
and I think I stick
a few fingers up
when a cab shouts
a foreign word at me.

Some wizard
on Waverly Place
***** a girl’s face
so I snort, maybe giggle
a little at how lust
in Winter
is a myth to me.

Earlier in the cinema
I managed forty minutes
before sleep hit me,
no idea if the clichéd ending
came around
but the darkness was nice,
first hug in ages.
My MTV tells me nothing
I didn’t know before -
I live in my fridge
and the bin’s far too full.

The girl at twenty-seven’s
drawn the drapes,
doesn’t know I saw
her husband drop coffee
when the waitress
leant over to swipe clean
a table at Joe’s,
a lime-green bra
or perhaps it was blue,
it was thir- four-
fifteen hours ago?

She’s barely left college
and I’d bet my last four dollars
his son’s pushing
for Ivy League
(probably Cornell).

I fall under the arch,
groan as if I’ve received
a Christmas present
I already own,
feel a tinge of beer
fuzz on my tongue.
Strangers look at me
and know I’m not
no undergraduate guy.
A Labrador
skips past.

I salvage my phone
from the shipwreck
in my pocket,
dial her number,
let it ring
and can’t be bothered
with it all again.

Winter,
and with winter comes a girl.
She greets the weather as a friend
she has not seen since last Christmas,
grins as the snow
scrunches and squeaks
as green Wellington boots
on a wooden floor.
Two men walk past her,
reeking of yesterday’s brandy.
One has sloshed a lot
down his front,
a dark claret patch
like a seeping **** on his chest.
Someone is playing an instrument,
a saxophone,
and the sound
sprints fluidly along the streets
into taxi-cabs and terracotta
coffee-shop windows.
She smiles again.
One dustbin’s been KO’d,
trash trips out
in a puddle of colours
like unwanted confectionary.
A teenage couple are kissing,
their heads a swaying metronome
and the boy grips a Starbucks cup
with one limp hand as if to say
here you have it.
Evening gushes over her
like a rush of bad acne
but she loves the sun
as it pecks the cheeks of buildings
and the jingle from her phone
which reminds her,
the movie starts at eight.

Fingers locked
     in female hands
a riddle
   like legs     free of clothes
   crumpled jumpers
     in a corner
resembling a salad
of what-the-hell-went-on
last night   greeny-reds.

   Dolled up
bees' knees
     next time
not a person to     impress
or   dazzle   with a fedora
   top-shelf aftershave
charcoal-black shoes
gobbling     this week's wages.

Miss your     mouth
                              completely
see if you   tick
the thirty-one boxes
     know nail polish
     birthdays
better than second-hand
lips   and teeth   and tongues
   and lips
stash wit in a drawer
humour   under the bed.

Spot the odd   one   out
like finding a disease
     in a bloodstream
always observe
     an   owl   in the room
   watch others hurl feelings
I miss   you's   about
gobbledygook
resort to stories
     only your pillow knows
they want the     fire
not a                           lonely snowman.

Lights were on,
you were home.

His car,
watermelon green
boot static in front,
lit up as treasure
beneath a streetlamp globe.

Snow pinched
windshield,
fingers numb,
gloves with pentagonal
holes 'round the wrist.

Got out,
cold hit me
like the train squealing up
at Canal Street
near 2AM.

That's where
you found out
who I was.

I thought you were
another twenty-something
from Greenwich Village,
discount hairband
and a wrong shade
of eye-shadow.

Eighteen months later,
I can't even remember
what colour your eyes are.

Knocked the door,
a reckless mistake.

Heard a murmur,
rowdy thump down stairs,
a ****** of glasses
(wine? Surprise.)

It had been a while.

You were expecting me.

When I woke
                      you were gone.

A bowl in the pillow
where your head   slept,

   six     hours
   pouring what passes for coffee
these days.

In a text
you told me

you burnt your hand,
     showed me

     a pomegranate splash that danced
between your fingers.
     Ouch, it still hurts you know...

Didn't hear you come in,
                            silent angel

but your perfume
   lingers like a   delicious poison
  
and I notice flowers
   are starting to crumble
as snowballs     on our window.

   No mirror
   so I cannot see

whether you've  left
     a cherry   lipstick birthmark

on my cheek
   or a note which says
didn't want to wake you!

Got this feeling,
   jet lag maybe

   but I haven't     moved,
haven't   flown     anywhere.

I flump my arm
   into the blank     space
where your   body ought to be.

Here come
pairs   of   legs
   riddled with cellulite
   accents
     stuff the air
Neuwcassul
   Burmingum
stores     reek
of cheap   tat
   bargain   last-few-quid   items
Irish music
no-one gives a     jig     about
    Mr. Whippy's
for sale every seven/six
   make that     five     cafés
women   packed
   like bubblewrap
     into denim shorts
     middle-aged men
plagued with     tattoos
   Irn Bru tans

back at the chalet
     kids thwack
   plastic     *****
with plastic racquets
   next-door neighbours
   puff on their nineteenth
*** before midday
come   night
karaoke floods towards us
   like a murky tsunami
don't stop believin'
     hold   on   to   that   feelin'

but the   girl
in the museum
   had a ponytail
   another one
dipped in gold
   like a fancy chess piece
and I walk   around
in a   Norwich   shirt
lick sea-breeze
     and know
   this isn't
home

Coming down with something
     blame summer
     point a finger at the city
worn-down pizzazz
     drunk trumpets
and I hide in my coat
    
trees look better without leaves
is it just me?
   see the sun bellow
   into buildings

student affairs
   like heat rash
bounce along hallways

foreign mumbo-jumbo
   mishpelt words

they say him met her
saw six pictures last night

I haven’t met me
   books know truth
not brunettes

good poetry
better than ***
   they’re running running running away with it
between spritzers
   and sandwiches
   now snooze until Halloween
   brown back in fashion

    caught in the middle
    piedra de aguacate
I handle guitars
    they fiddle with women

now  
   let apple juice trickle
from my lips
   and a man gets out a taxi
    drops his phone

Before you came,
the lighthouse.
   Aging, silently,
   saw it blink
   as if it knew me,
was stalking me,
a tiny inflamed eye.
   Reds popped as corks,
   smudge of blood
   on a north-eastern
summer sky.
And then,
   in a second
   as quick as a pulse
   on a wrist,
a flick to white,
a shard of champagne
   light latched
   upon my attention.
   Back to red.
And back again.
Two colours breathing in,
   blowing out,
   calling you.

Midnight
  crashes in
thunderclap   headache

darkness     spreading
a virus
black   skin   infection

     hear the sea
cannot see it
mumble in   sigh out

night of sonnets
melting to   haikus
couplets     nothing

rubies on my lips
   jewels   I've never known
on my hand

     you

made me faint
   made my (day)dreams
Technicolor

whispered villanelles
     buried them
broken bones   in sand

     inhaled your language
stored stories
   for next time

twenty-six   things
twenty-six   letters
play   pause   repeat

play   pause   repeat
   craved you
smoke/drugs/*****

in eyes lost
backs of   knees
fingers on      spines

   eleven fifty nine
     fifty nine
reality soaks through

a ****** wound
   as the message
in the bottle

   you sway away
fictional     fading
   closed

We found the thing
  on our walk,
   vacant, drinking the waves.
You tugged it
  from the mush,
   rolled your fingers
over its wet knobbles
  like kneecaps or ankles.
   What a find.
Held it up,
  let sunlight glimmer
   from its clotted cream body,
felt the smooth blancmange
  pink interior and said
   you have it
no you have it.
  I put the shape to my ear,
   listened for the sea
but heard hushes, whispers
  whirring within a dark room.
   I had to own it in the end.
Able to keep
  part of the beach
   but not you,
not you.

what feeling
    like a chunk of gum
numbed    by a dentist
     knowing Santa isn’t real
     milk    and cookies
gone
anyway

     lost in streets
   lost
    darkness thrills    you
chills you
   as rain on the first day
of spring
    love is a mystery
odd   one   out
among liars
lovers
     extroverts

     yet
and   yet

    feels red
when windows   creak
   open to greet mornings
musty     novels
wedged like teeth in boxes
     take them  
just a pound

slivers of kindness
   smiles to say  
   I know     me too
smell handwritten letters
     phone-calls under    swathes
     of duvet
     at midnight
to someone
their name sounds   just   right

pangs of solitude
   muted by a voice
a touch
     some words
   thrown      together

horns squawk
   rainforest avenues
  
  exoskeleton
of cars
   arteries clogged
with unlovely   taxi cabs

fat  green  fruit
for sale
     five languages
merge into a knot
hisses    kiss    vowels
   kiwis apples pears

   black guys   basketball
debt rises like      blood pressure
stocks tumble
    but we walk
brogues clop on concrete

count  brick after  brick
sun cascades
   over roof slates
mind cracks in slabs

   (you say
Monroe      stood here)

   heat quivers
men are dominoes
suits    for the office
   a funeral

designer sneakers
   daddy paid for
pigtails   cheap thrills
  violet octagons
  on a stranger’s neck
(behind the closed doors)

today
I drink purple water
     aubergine lips
remind me
of a Tuscany Superb

   list the names
Houston   Charlton
Leroy   Sullivan
Perry   Cornelia
Dominick and Jane

(ladders lead
                away from me
                close to
you)

and back again

I write your name
                              in red
   sunlight
seeps through bottles
          on a windowsill
   margarine kaleidoscopes
         on legs

naked for a change
(early summer risky business)

Floorboards yawn
     under the weight of our stories
   I take showers
        as well as baths now
   Can't be twenty-one here
older   shush you couldn't tell

   Roll my finger
   make your piano tingle
like when our wrists
    bump together
    when spines crackle
on books bought yesterday
    this city   bubbles
        all fiction

You think
monochrome
     makes you look better
     camera   snap   done
jazz sashays around the room
    head out a window
hear people as nosebleeds
                    scrabble about

You flirt
        (what a discovery)
like flowers in a vase
   orange juice   bagels
ten-plus-ten toes

     (A moment
where your eyes ache
     into mine)

I hop
stepped jumped
into this mess

     you know as well as I do
     what a delectable
mess we are in

Hours taken by sea
butter sunshine gone
to a chalky lavender smudge

our feet made prints
in piles of freckles
skin tickled by heat

are you in my head
pirouetting
between dreams

or real as diamonds
(so you’d know
about kisses)

you filled hollowness
with petals
cups of lust

played
my fragile xylophone
like an expert

swapped it
for a piano
made it sing

you’re the pearl
on my palm
in a thunderstorm

my sweet speck
of dark magic
at sunrise

I pull away
for you to tug me
right back in again

I.

You scribble your name,
   spaghetti letters
on my arm
   in sky-blue ink
so when my eyes open
   I’ll be able to remember
when you asked
   if you could
write your name
   on my arm.

II.

Where did you come from?
The waves
must have done something,
the water
glistens on your legs
like a hundred
million silver sequins,
your hair
melted toffee squiggles
oozing
between shoulders.

III.

The longer I stay,
the more the empty pit
   he can’t ignore
   will froth with pink bubbles,
gurgle as a kitchen sink
gulping soapy water,
   spill over in a torrent
   of sugary sentences
but it’s OK;
I ought to tell him
   I like the electric rush.

Here are my eyes
my fried eggs
teal lily-pads floating
on white albumen.

Here are my elbows
like deformed peaches
my knuckles the peas
wrist corn on the cob.

Here are my teeth
my frosty Stonehenge
a ring of slabs
solid halibut.

Here are my ankles
four gobstoppers
cracking as rocks
under her size-five feet.

Here is my nose
fastened to my face
the garbage chute
meets hoover hybrid.

Here are my knees
two wrinkled potatoes
mashing in their sockets
as waves crumble on me.

Here is my hair
my straw candyfloss
unlike her buttered popcorn
curly-wurly waterfall.

Here are my tonsils
squashy strawberries
wedged at the back
of the cave I once made.

Here are my lips
azalea-pink sweets
flecked with salt
from our slice of sea.

I like when it begins   the white
icing of a dream   and the ones I only know
with my eyes closed    glow like rubies
brighter than    raspberries in July.

I like when it   unravels as a scarf
the people   clearer than cellophane  
the speech fresh as juice   here it pours  
into each eye   I like to swallow each second.

I like to wallow in    the shadows of strangers
until light   slinks under the door come morning
and I like the very spangled thought of    you
too close not close    enough to my arms.

I like the buzz of my blood   flowing quicker
when you talk   knowing your bones
disorderly network of navy veins   I like
to feel the static crackle and fizz   between us.

I like the bench   in your back garden
and us on it   I like the heady loveliness of it all  
inhale the flavours   brush your cheek
cling to the seconds ’til I wake   and you go.

Forgive me
in summer
if I were
to buy you

some roses
one morning
with fraying
red petals

for they’d be
so frozen
bespeckled
in silver

so you’d know
how it felt
to be cold
just like me

Nightfall
and I cannot get over
the architecture of you

I could draw your fingerprints
from memory
with rainbow crayons

paint
how you scrunched your toes
like yesterday’s paper

whenever the water
threatened to soak
our undressed feet

We are here
talking about
anything everything

nothing at all
your words are my wine
I want to sip every drop

ask for another bottle
in the coal-black silence
and get smashed

wake up tomorrow with sand
strewn through my fringe
a silly smile or two

forget what is not
on this beach
and know only now

the tone of the waves
hue of your lipstick
beat of our hearts

This is no box of tricks
rather an ottoman swollen
with some daft curios

that you know little about
and I can’t control
like the tide leaking in

Here’s a sack
of silly cravings
boiling over

as a *** of hot coffee
feel the discomfiture
bloom inside my cheeks

Dreams glazed
in electric colour
hooked on fiction

every night
wishing for the lights
to blaze upon whoever you are

Imagine, if you will,
an empty stretch
of carroty sand
and me and you
skedaddling up
to the waves as they unfurl out to us,
slide back in
like a dog’s tongue in heat
or two lovers’ lips
to say hello, farewell,
then hello again.

Imagine, if you will,
the two of us
on the beach
as the sun
dribbles down
like raindrops on a window,
afternoon into night
and our toes meshed together,
and our hands pressed together,
and our bodies together,
so close I can count
every time
your heart pounds,
beats with ecstasy.

Imagine, if you will,
what this is like
in a dream,
what it would be like
if you blinked
     and the scene
became real,
if you turned your head
and knew my eyes,
if I turned my head
and couldn’t take my eyes
away.

Here it comes,
what we weren’t expecting.
Thankfully you have one with you
so you fish it out
before the drizzle
becomes a downpour,
press the button
and watch it pop open
like an airbag,
the spindly blue tent
to protect us
from the wet.

We huddle together
as marshmallows in a bag,
as fruit in a bowl,
listen to the spattering,
the clattering of stuff
from the sky,
rounds of applause
dropping off the edge
onto sand.

I hope it stops soon.
     Yeah, me too, me too.
You grab my dry hand
as we shuffle closer,
only able to hear the rush
of the rain.