Even as a child
Bramshaw was obsessed
With brassieres;
He liked the shape
And bright colours;
He liked to imagine
Them filled with firm flesh,
Warm and motherly.

When he got older
He’d steal them
From neighbouring
Washing lines, stuff them
Beneath his coat
And put them
In the top drawer
Of his dresser along
With **** magazines,
French cigarettes
And photographs
Of Bridgett Bardot.

He liked to imagine
The women who filled them;
Liked to rub them
Against his cheek;
Liked to sniff them
For scent or sweat,
But all he got
Was detergent
And the smell of soap
And warm fresh air.

Later he got
To put them on,
Sizing them up,
Feeling them
Against his chest,
Fixing them from behind
With his fingers
Almost breaking his arms
In the process, he’d walk
Around his apartment
With just the brassiere,
Swaying his hips
And sticking out his
Imaginary breast,
Pretending he got
Wolf whistles
From loud guys
On building sites;
Imagined he got the stare
From the guy downstairs
With the blonde hair
And large blue eyes.

Once he bought a pair in blue,
The correct size saying
They were for his wife Lou,
And the girl was all helpful,
All information; pointing out
The this and that of brassieres;
And all the time he was gazing
At her *******, wondering
What colour she had, what size;
And only after that was done
Did he gaze into her eyes,
Into the window of her soul,
And saw small demons
Laughing at him
From each dark hole.

Janice undid
the budgie’s cage
and put in
her slim finger

and the bird hopped on
and she pulled out
her finger with the bird
still there not moving

not flying through the air
see
she said
she will not go

you stood watching
with your back
to the door
hands on

the wooden panel
she spoke to the bird
it cocked its head
she muttered

nonsense sounds
the bird moved
its wings
but didn’t attempt

to fly
just stared her
in the eye
I often get her out

to feel freedom
Janice said
moving around the room
the bird balancing

itself as she moved  
what if the bird flew away?
you asked
it won’t

she said
but what if it did?
you said
Janice moved her head

to one side
in imitation
of the bird
her red beret

still in place
ah then
Gran would tan my hide
redder than my beret

she said
the bird walked
along her finger
but it won’t go

Janice said
and walked
to the open window
and held the bird there

the bird looked out
winking an eye
or so seeming
and looked away

but some time
you said
it might take flight
Janice walked

across the room
to the cage
and put the bird back
and closed the door

with a soft click
she smiled
maybe
she said

maybe
you moved away
from the door
and her gran came in

with sandwiches
on a large white plate
and put them
on the table

has Janice shown you
the budgie?
her gran asked
yes

you said
Janice looked at you
eyebrows raised
she didn’t open the cage

and get it out did she?
Janice looked away
no no
you said

she just pointed it out
and we spoke to her
o good
because she has

the terrible habit
of taking it out
when my backs turned
and one of these days

it will fly away
Gran moved back
to the kitchen
to fetch the other

tea things
Janice said
you lied for me
well I didn’t want

you to get into trouble
you said
Janice pulled a face
lies can land us

in Hell
she said
well it’s either Hell
or a good tanning

you said
she smiled
and sat at the table
and you sat beside her

hearing her gran
in the kitchen
with cups and saucers
and the kettle

whistling loud and clear
Janice’s hand
touched yours  
and she whispered

in your ear
( so gran
wouldn’t hear)
you are a dear.

Julie followed Benedict
from bookshop to bookshop
then they went in a cafe
on Charing Cross Road

and sat down
by the window
and ordered two coffees
and lit up cigarettes

how's it going
at the hospital?
he asked
gutty

she said
boring my ******* off    
I shouldn't be there
she inhaled deeply

on her cigarette
once you're off the drugs
you won't be
he said

I am off the drugs
she looked at him
well most of the time
she said

what do they say
at the hospital?
they said my parents
want me to stay there

until I'm cleaned off  
she said
but you're out today
he said

yes on good behaviour
she said
any sign
I've taken anything

then I'm locked in
and Daddy said
they'll have me sectioned
if need be

he has doctor friends
who will oblige
and him and Mother
being doctors themselves

it won't be difficult
she said
Benedict watched
as the waitress

brought the coffees
and put them on the table
and swayed off
in a Monroe fashion

we could take in a film
if you like
he said
no I don't want

to be stuck
in some smokey cinema
she said
I want to be out

in the fresh air
and see London
ok
he said

what about having a stroll
along the Thames Embankment?
then after take in
a look around an art gallery

you are full of fun
she said moodily
ok where then?
he said

some room someplace
and a good ****
she said
the word hung in the air

like a dark cloud
in the cafe
people gaped at her
I think they've got

Lichtenstein at the gallery
this month
he said
Pop Art stuff

he added
she pulled a face
then drew on her cigarette
you're in a mood

he said
maybe you should
have stayed at the hospital
and twiddled your thumbs

on the ward
she stared at him
releasing smoke
from her mouth slowly

ok the gallery
isn't too bad an idea
she said
but I'm gagging

for a fix
my body's screaming for it
she went quiet
and sipped her coffee

he looked at her
sitting there
dark brown hair
tied by a ribbon

her eyes staring
at the table
her fingers holding
the cup and cigarette

he recalled the time
at the hospital
when they'd managed
to be alone

in the small broom cupboard
and the quick ***
in the dark
between brooms

and dusters
and buckets
he smiled
what you smiling at?

she said
cupboard love
he said
she laughed

yes that was good
she said
unexpected too
and any moment

some poor cleaner
coming for a bucket
and seeing us at it
she stubbed out

her cigarette
in an ashtray
on the table
and they went out the cafe

and back along
towards Trafalgar Square
to the art gallery
to see what was there.

Helen's hair
hangs dampened
by the rain

as we wait
underneath
the hawning

of a shop
on the way
home from school

her thick lens
spectacles
are smeary

so I can't
see her eyes
will it stop?

she asks me
I hope so
I reply

don't fancy
standing here
till bedtime

I look up
at the sky
grey and black

rain falling
I'm all wet
she mutters

even my
socks are damp
in my shoes

let's run then
I tell her
so we run

through the rain
splashing through
deep puddles

on pavements
she clutching
my wet hand

semi-blind
in her smeared
spectacles

rushing past
the shop fronts
our passing

reflections
in windows
quite ghostly

as in dreams
thunder claps
above us

from the sky
and Helen
loudly screams.

After the bath the drying of,
the white towel under the
arms, over arms and *******,
between thighs, all over until

all dries or near so, and while
drying, she thinks of the long
afternoon spent, the meal, art
gallery and back to the hotel

for *** and talk and *** again.
She smiles, drying along her thigh,
here where he put his lips, kiss
planting, lips damp and wet, his

tongue lick lick, she laughs softly,
dries her buttocks, rubs and rubs,
and him reciting some short *****
poem, tapping his fingers along her

spine. She pauses the drying of, sits
and recalls the kisses set, the places
laid, the excitement caused and
raised and she in giggles near to

wetting and he laughing. After
the bathing, the rumination and
towelling all over, skin rubbed,
bath oils, powder, remembering

embraces, touching in places (what
would Mother have said?), and
he running finger along her nerves
and setting her juices to flow, then

have to leave, said he, have to go,
then gone, bed empty, space vacated,
scent left, odours lingering, still on
fire, unsatisfied desire. She sits and

puts down the towel, takes cigarette,
lights, inhales and thinks on and when
next and where, and if in truth, he’ll
come and (God be praised) ever be there.

I want to be with you,
Yiska says.

It's raining,
we're in the main hall,
looking out
at the downpour,
other kids are
in groups talking,
others are playing
card games,
others are running around
playing tag games.

We are together.

Alone together,
not here with these.

I study her
standing there,
her eyes focusing
on the rain,
her arms crossed
in frustration.

Can't be helped,
I say.

We could go elsewhere
and be alone.

She turns
and looks at me.

Where?

Any where’s better
than here.

Let's go see
where is free.

We walk through
the hall,
passing kids,
looking out
for prefects or teachers.

We walk out
in a corridor,
passing other kids
on the move,
prefects rushing by.

In here,
she says,
pulling me
by the hand
into the gym.

She closes the door.

Empty and quiet.

I look around the gym.

Smell of sweat
and wet clothes.

She takes me further in
and we go over
behind the screened
off area
where mats
and equipment are kept.

Here will do.

Do for what?

She kisses me
and draws me
close to her.

I sense her body
against mine;
her small *******
against my chest.

She tastes of
bubblegum and milk.

Her lips are open,
her teeth visible.

I want you,
she says,
I dream of having
you alone.

We are alone.

Not for long though,
be end of recess soon.

I kiss her,
lips on skin,
on cheek,
lips on lips.

We pause
listening to the rain;
outside the upper window
where the raindrops drip.

Saturday
shop busy
you with Dylan Thomas’s
Deaths & Entrances

poetry book  
tucked in
your inside pocket
of your brown jacket

Miss Croft
Saturday girl
dark hair
ponytailed

swaying
her tight ***
in her short skirt
up and down

the shop aisle
Duff the manager
bespectacled
with curly mass

of dark hair
standing there
cigarette in mouth
conversing

with a customer and wife
about which paint
went best
with what wallpaper

giving the dame
the eye
giving the charm
you tanked up

(you worked better
that way)
with some old couple
wanting curtains

to match
the wallpaper choice
the blue flowers
the pattern

the old guy gazing
at the Croft girl
the way
she wiggled her ***

her la-de-da tones
her bright eyed
expression
then she talked

to friends from college
more friends
than Trotsky
had enemies

standing there
hands on hips
tight tee shirt
small ****

and can you order this
in a light blue
the old dame asked
the blue here’s

too dark
the old guy nodded
his head turned
eyes on his wife’s

profile
sure sure
you said
controlling the slur

the beer taking hold
the old dame
seemed pleased
her husband gave

the Croft girl
another secret gaze
her tight *** moving
side to side

as she walked
the aisle
her friends departed
you watched her

with her bourgeoisie
life and ways
her small tight body
wrapped

like a dream
and the sale complete
the old couple
went away

through the business
of wallpaper
and paint
all of a Saturday.

It was Wednesday morning service
in the church next to the school
and Helen sat next to you

in the old wooden pew
her eyes peering
behind her thick lens glasses

at you and she whispered
your mum’s meeting my mum
in the street market after school

and then we’re going to my house
for a cup of tea
and I can show you

my doll’s house
that my dad made
out of an orange box

and it’s got lights
and everything
you leaned your head

towards her and said
in a low voice
oh right yes that’ll be good

hoping none of your mates
could hear
especially Cogan

who only the other week
threatened to ****** your nose
but he didn’t show after school

and she smiled
and you looked at the altar
where the vicar

was lighting candles
and Mrs Murphy
was walking down the aisle  

like an aging storm trooper
in her hand knitted cardigan
and brown pleated skirt

Helen whispered
and you can see
the tiny furniture

I’ve got too  
that my mum bought
from a second hand shop

off the market
you looked at her
sitting there

in her grey jumper
and white blouse
and grey skirt

and her plaited hair
parted in the middle
and her bright eyes

magnified by the glass lens
and you said
I look forward to it

and she rubbed your hand
with hers
and then looked ahead

at the lighted candles
and sniffed in the incense
in the air and her hand

moved to pick up
a hymn book
and you sensed where

her hand had been
like some angel’s touch
as if to bless

well that’s what
it seemed like to you
more or less.

Her breath smelt of peppermints
she leaned over you
on Mr Spark’s bed
where she’d pinned you

after creeping into the room
as you made his bed
her blue eyes
peered into yours

I want you
take me to cinema
she said sultrily
you felt her ****

pressing
into your white shirt
her hands either side
of your head

I’m kind of busy Sonia
you said
you can spare time
take me to cinema

she stated
you tried to move
but she’d
pinned you well

maybe at the end
of the week
you said
you say that

but you could be lying
she breathed
peppermint
invade your nose

her red lipsticked lips
opened and closed
I promise you I will
you said

your body
beginning to numb
you promise?
yes I promise

she lifted up a little
so you could breathe
if you lie to me
I will scream

and say you throw me
on bed for ***
she said
but I didn’t

you said
I know and you know
but who they believe?
she uttered softly

you tried to ease her off
but she pushed down harder
promise me?
yes

you said
what we go see?
whatever you like
she smiled

small white teeth
showed
anything I want?
yes anything

she moved off
of you and sat
on the edge
of the bed

as you got off the bed
and brushed down
your white coat
and straightened

your red tie
and smoothed down
the bedcover
that’d become creased

she sat looking at you
her blonde hair
pinned back
with hair grips

one leg crossed
over the other
a foot dangling
the black shoe

rising and falling
where you take me?
the Ritz cinema
there’s a good film on

you said
is *** film?
no war film
you muttered

looking at her
wondering
if you could make
the door before

she jumped you again
war film?
she said
is good?

is *** in it?
I guess so
you said
watching her foot

dangling up and down
good
she said
getting off the bed

we go then
at end of week?
yes
you said

and she kissed
your lips
with her bruising lips
of bright red.

In your granddad’s bookcase
was a book you liked
with a blue hardback cover
with German warplane

pictures in it
and you loved to study
the photographs
even though

the words
were too big
or long
for you to read

and on that Sunday
you sat
while the parents talked
and studied

the bookcase
hoping your granddad
would get it out for you
if he saw you

looking that way
long enough
but the parents talked
and the grandparents

listened or talked too
and the book stayed put
in the bookcase
and you stared

and counted the books
on either side
taking in
the various colours

and sizes
on the shelves above
and below
and how neat

they were placed
and tidy
and well polished
it all was

but the book
kind of attracted you
with its German warplanes
with the Swastikas

on the wings and sides
and some pictures
had Spitfires
and Lancaster bombers

with red white and blue
on the sides and wings
but that Sunday
Granddad didn’t

get out the book
and hand it to you.

You climbed through a broken window
at the back of the deserted pub
and you and ****

and Ingrid
went
into the gloomy bar room

with dust and chairs
and round tables
some broken

and empty glasses
and bottles
on shelves

and **** went
behind the bar
and said

what are you having?
large beer and a gin
for the lady

you said
sorry mate no beer
and we're right out of gin

**** said
shame
you said

Ingrid wandered
around the tables anxiously
do people come in here now?

no been closed for years
**** said
although some one's

been here
going by
the broken window

he added
Ingrid ran her finger
across a dusty table

could do with a good clean
she said
I think my granddad

used to drink here
said ****
I remember waiting outside

with a bottle of lemonade
and  packet of crisps
I've done that

Ingrid said
what waited outside of here?
**** said

no not here
she said
another pub

the Duke of Wellington mostly
never done it
you said

ain't done what?
**** asked
waited outside pubs

you said
lucky you then
**** said

waited for hours once
Ingrid said
mum was away

and Dad was in there so long
that someone
asked about me

and he came out
and dragged me home
all annoyed

as if I'd complained
you gazed at her
waiting for the next comment

about her old man
but she didn't
say anything

but you knew
what he most probably did
when he got her home

she looked at the windows
with words on them
but they were back to front

and hard to read  
**** held up a bottle
with a blue label

some sort of beer
he said
shall I open and have a swig?

no
said Ingrid
probably taste horrible

all beers taste horrible
**** said
he put the top

of the bottle
against a bottle opener
behind the bar

nailed to the bar top  
and yanked it open
and smelt it

have a sniff
he said
and he brought the bottle

around the bar
and you had a sniff
smells all right

you said
Ingrid sniffed
yuk

she said  
smells like my dad's breath
when he gets near me

**** had a quick swig
and pulled a face
yes horrible

he said
he put the bottle on the bar
and you all walked

around the bar room
then there a bang from upstairs
what the heck was that​ ?

**** said quietly
*****
you said

*****? Ingrid said anxiously
let's go
yes let's be off

**** said
and so you all tiptoed
as fast as you could

through to the back  
and one by one
out the window

making sure
not to cut yourselves
on the broken glass

once outside
**** went off
down the subway

to his home
and you and Ingrid
walked along

the New Kent Road
in the late afternoon
she brushing off her dress

to get rid of the dust
and you rubbed your hands
together with spit

to clean them
the smell of fish
and vinegar

from the fish and chips shop
the passing traffic
she talked of going home

before her old man
got back
so she could wash

and clean up
her eyes
dark olives shining

and tearful
you said
tomorrow we can go

to the cinema
and see that cowboy film
I told you about

yes
she said softly
if I'm allowed out

and you crossed the road
and walked down
Meadow Row

wanting her to stay
and play and not
have to go.

Christine
whom some ****
had left at the altar
stood beside you

looking out the window
of the locked ward
of the psychiatric hospital
into the snowy grounds

why did he leave me
at the altar?
Why didn’t he just say
he didn’t want to marry me?

she asked
you turned to look at her
her hair long
and over her shoulders

covering the top part
of her flowered dressing gown
I don’t know
you said

wondering why the creep
had done that to her
leaving her in that state
she was in

he must have been a fool
not wanting to marry you
you said
she gazed at you

her blue eyes
reaching out
like invisible fingers
to touch you

I was the fool
she said
I should have known  
snow was falling

on the windowsill
fresh and cold
and clean and white
she looked away from you

and watched the snow
someone said
you tried to hang yourself
she said softly

studying the snowflakes
on the trees
out in the grounds
so they say

you replied
I can’t remember
the radio behind
was playing

Hey Girl Don’t Bother Me
by a group
called the Tams
the dj said

you caused quite a fuss
the other day
locking yourself
in the john

and putting the belt
of your dressing gown
over the water pipe
Christine said

they thought
you were going to do it again
I guess so
you replied

she moved her left hand
to touch yours
we’re like broken dolls
she said

far off in a field
a tractor pulled a plough
through the snow
and gulls flew down

and up behind it
as it went by
her hand sent sparks
through your nerves

when it touched yours
broken dolls
you said
or puppets

with strings cut through
and tears filled her eyes
and she whispered
what is one to do?

And there
by the water tower
Jane stood
and I was thinking

of how I'd helped
my  father saw the logs
for the fire and stove
and the sun was beginning

to open up
and bring more warmth
and she was standing there
and I felt a glow

of happiness fill me
and she waved
as I approached
and I waved back

and as we got near
I said she looked
a sight for poor eyes
and she smiled

not knowing
what I meant I think
but anyway
she said that her father

had asked her to help
do the flowers
in the church
as there was to be

a funeral that afternoon
so she had helped
and I asked
who had died

and she said
an old parishioner who
had been a regular
churchgoer

and we walked on
along Bug's Lane
between the hedgerows
and bird were singing

and flying overhead
or from hedge to hedge
or over fields
and she asked me

how I was and I said
better for seeing you
and she laughed
and said so was she

and I was tempted
to hold her hand
but didn't want
to be seen

as presumptuous
and so I didnt
but I did smell
the scent of flowers

on her
and it drew me
to her even more
and I said what's

the scent you're wearing
it smells nice
and she said it
was she mother's

that her father
had bought her
and her mother said
she could wear some

and so she did
and we walked on
towards the small church
a good walk away

that warm
flower smelling  
sun pouring down
summery day.

Elaine walked home with her sister after getting off the school bus she had looked up as the bus drove off and stared to see if John was looking and he was and she smiled or she is sure she did smile then after the bus had gone she wondered if she had smiled or not or whether she had imagined she had done so her sister walked on chatting about her day Elaine just listened as much as she thought she ought but deep down she was not interested in her sisters day she was more concerned about John and how he had talked to her and named her after a butterfly but now she had forgotten the name of the butterfly was it Peacock or whatever she couldnt recall and did it matter? no it didnt stay in her mind the name so it couldnt have been important  at all she thought looking past her sister at the trees and the hedgerow which they walked past when they entered the house her mother was in the kitchen preparing the dinner her sister talked to her mother about her day but apart from saying hello and yes she was all right Elaine walked up the stairs to her room and shut the door and put her school bag on the floor and walked to the window and stared out at the garden and the trees and birds in the air and she thought of John and his talk of birds and how he sought out their nests not to invade or destroy but to study and see what nest it was and how many eggs and what was the name of the butterfly he said she was? she couldnt recall and looked back at her bed at the neatness of it after her mother had made and tidied up and her favourite doll lay next to her pillow she lay down on the bed and crossed her legs at her ankles and put her hands over stomach and stared at the ceiling white but with a spider black and plump settled in the corner by the window she hated spiders hated the way they settled there as if waiting for the lights to go out at night then creep along above her bed and then silently lower themselves down into her bed or head or on her pillow she thought of john how he had talked to her even though she had stormed off a while ago after the kiss he gave her and it had unsettled her but now she wondered if he would kiss her again and if he did how she would feel next time she sighed and looked at her feet at the shoes black and slightly scuffed and she knew her mother would tell her off for having her shoes on while laying on the bed she stared at the shoes then eased them off with one foot after the other the shoes falling to the floor and her feet just having the white socks on and she wiggled her toes and sighed and closed her eyes and wondered what John was doing now and if he was at home now and what he was thinking and was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him she mused trying to imagine him in her minds eye wondering if he would kiss her kiss her the Frump as the other kids called her at school he had once kissed her she embraced herself her hands on her shoulders crossed over her ******* imagining that maybe he would embrace her like that and hold her close to him and if he did how would she react and why did he blush so easily as she had when he seemed to take note of her she wanted to pretend he was there beside her now here in her room where she felt safe and here on her bed so she could hold him and he hold her but what then? kissing? and how would her body react to that? She didn't understand her body it seemed to act on its own like it did that time when he kissed her and her body acted almost independently of her heart plump faster and her pulse raced that day and O God she had thought sh'd wet herself  but she hadnt it was just a thing about him how he could affect so even if she didnt think her did he did she pulled the pillow from behind her head and held it close to her feeling it with her fingers with eyes still closed she imagined it was he there his body she was holding soft not firm she sniffed it it smelt of herself her shampoo her sweat her not him she held it against her ******* kissed the top pretending it was he whom her lips touched but it wasn't like him when he kissed her that day it seemed so soft like a feather touching but it was him his lips touched her so softly yet stirred her so much she hugged the pillow tighter yet hugging it made her feel uneasy what if it was him she was hugging where did things go from there she wondered what happened next when he had kissed her that day his hands had touched her back one hand moving over bottom and yet she wasnt so aware at the time of the effect it was afterwards after he had gone that she realized that he had touched her there or the maybe it was like a palm print there at least she imagined so was that what happened? was it touching too? where touching? O she pushed the pillow away from her and opened her eyes and stared at the pillow laying there white and soft and lifeless an aunt had said to her a while ago beware of boys Elaine they only want to get into your ******* and yet her aunt had never said why or what the boys were after and she hated being fourteen at times she wanted to be nine or ten again when thing seemed simple and her body did what it was told but now it seemed to do what it wanted and not what she thought it should she sighed and put the pillow under head again and lay on her side and stared at the wall her hands tucked between her thighs her mind full of what ifs and sad sighs.

Your father used to put
a folded white handkerchief

in the top pocket
of your jacket

and combed your hair
which he’d plastered

with Brylcream first
and even dampened

your eyebrows
to get them to lay down

with his spittled finger
and took you with him

to the movies
to watch cowboy

or war films
or now and then

those romantic ones
with kissing

and too much talk
which although good

you would avoid
if you could

and he took you
to your granddad and gran

and you sat there
bored out of your brain

watching the goldfish
swim round and round

the glass fish bowl
and him talking

about this or that
and once you recall

at a Friday evening treat
at the movies

he’d run off into
the dark

and you sat
watching the film

until an usherette came
and said

your daddy’s had
a choking fit

and he’s in the foyer
having a rest in a chair

and so you missed
the end of the film

as she took you off
to see him there.

Ariel
sits across
opposite
from myself

looking plump
and balding

we're talking
of Tolstoy
(Ariel's
favourite
novelist)

he creates
the largest
fictional
canvases
Ariel
informs me

his large eyes
focusing
on his class
of real ale

now and then
looking at
a table
quite near us
where young girls
talk and laugh

their laughter
echoing
in the warm
evening
summer air

I prefer
Marcel Proust
I tell him

watching how
his eyes scan
the young girls

less manly
Ariel
says to me
don't like Proust
no substance
just gossip
from parties
he went to
you know he
was a queer

yes I know

wrote in bed

yes I know

he gazes
at the girls
taking in
their laughter
their bodies
their brightness

all his thoughts
of Tolstoy
put aside

I sip beer
wondering
what Tolstoy
would say here
seeing this
this canvas

intellect
dissolved in
human lust
words silent

write again
another
War and Peace
in English
now I trust.

Abela
sips her wine
wipes her mouth
looks around

love it here
Dubrovnik
she utters

I sip beer
turn a page
of my book
poetry
D. Thomas
Welsh poet

lovely wine
why don't you
try the wine?

I like beer
I reply

why do you
have to read?
she mutters

why do you
have to talk?

she cold stares
sips more wine

cigarette?
I suggest

get your own
she replies

I sip beer
close the book

nice place this
beer's good too
and that girl
that waitress
she's good too

what's so good
about her?
what's she got
that I’ve not?

I don't know
not seen her
undress yet

I light up
a hand rolled
cigarette

those two guys
she tells me
at the bar
the other night
are gay guys

I inhale
hold the smoke
exhale it

you think so?

it stands out
a wide mile

you liked him
the dark one
his dark eyes
wavy hair

she closes
her eyelids
zips her lips

what makes you
think they're gay?

I saw them
lip kissing
she whispers

we lip kiss
we hand kiss
we thigh kiss
we breast kiss

THAT'S ENOUGH
she bellows

I think they're
nice fellows
I tell her
not my scene
but nice guys

Abela
drains her wine
glares at me

another wine?
I ask her
cigarette?

I want gin

I signal
a waiter
one gin please
I tell him
and whiskey

he goes off

she lights up
a French smoke

about the girl
the waitress
just a joke
I tell her

(but the girl
the waitress
occupies
a small room
in my mind)

how days go
she utters
how time flies.

Bill knows all about
Black ops; he’s been
Involved in many; hush
Hush stuff. Knew about
The JFK *****. Watch

Your back, Bill, old
Friends said; now most
Are dead, but Bill’s still
Around, keeping his nose
Clean, his eyes keen, his

Brain alert. He knows
Things are going on; he
Reads the news, hears
Politician’s doublespeak,
Reads between the lines.

His mother bathed his
Grazed knees, kissed
His bruises, covered up
His lies, prayed for him.
Never understood him

Not even on her last day.
He visited her in hospital,
But wouldn’t stay; said it
Was best for both of them
That way. The American

Dream; what a laugh, he
Muses, standing in the
Doorway, watching for
The cab, remembering
Mexico, the dark ops

There, the way it went.
Nice place that, except
For the reasons sent.
He knew headlines
Were falsified; lies

Were spread. Knew
Why Kennedy got it
In the head. Years pass
By, he sighs, most people
Forget. New ops arrive,

Word sent, politicians
Bought up and out and
Spent. Could have been
Some one, Bill, his father
Often said, could have made

The grade, been at the top,
Crème de la crème. **** that,
Bill said, don’t want to be
Part of that sick scene, don’t
Want to be a sadshit like them.

Off Rockingham Street
just fifty yards
from the corner shop
where you used to get

bread rolls
in the early mornings
was a bombed out factory
with a fence around

but some kids
had pushed a way
through the wooden slates
and that is where

you and Helen went
on the Saturday afternoon
( not going in the morning
because of the film matinée)

she uncertain
as she followed you
through the fence
looking about her

her eyes enlarged
by her thick lens spectacles
her brown hair
bunched with ribbons

are there people here still?
she asked
no
you said

no one here except
a few rats and mice
rats!
she said

stiffening by the fence
mice?
sure but they won't hurt you
you said

tapping the 6 shooter
toy gun wedged
in a holster
on your belt

but rats
she said
I hate them
she put fingers

to her mouth
o come on
you said
nothing to worry about

she followed you reluctantly
across the yard
and to the factory
which had been locked up

but some kids
had busted through
a side door
and you and she

went through
and into the factory
the smell
she said

what a stink
yes
you said
dampness rotting wood and ****

and sometimes tramps
come in here
and **** in corners
tramps?

not here now are they?
no they go at daylight
you said
you walked in

and looked around
at the places
where once
machines had been

and benches stood rotting
in the damp
from holes in the ceiling
where bombs

had blown entrances
and one wall
at the back
was blown out

she stood there
hands in her coat pockets
not sure I want to go further
she said

look we've come this far
why go back now?
you said
frightened

she said
you walked to her
and took her hand
and said

I'm here with you
I promised your mum
I'd take care of you
yes I know

but she thought
you were taking me
to the park
not the bomb sites

she's told me not to go
on bomb sites
she says
they're dangerous places

you smiled
of course they are
that's why I come
you said

she hesitated
at your side
she squeezed your hand
look

afterwards we'll get some chips
from the chip shop
and put plenty
of salt and vinegar on them

and eat them
on the grass
by Banks House
ok

she said
her eyes brightening
she followed you
through the factory

looking at the walls
and benches
and spaces
where old tools

had once been
and where machines
had been blown away
or taken off

after the war
she walked with you
up the wobbly
metal staircase

to a higher level
and into rooms
where offices
had once been

and went to a window
and peered out
at the surrounding houses
and gardens

some houses bombed out
some still intact
with washing on the lines
you felt your gun

with your hand
sensed her hand
in yours
looking out

through the window
at the Saturday
afternoon sun  
and warm out of doors.

Julie stuffed the cigarette
into her mouth
and hungrily inhaled
Benedict was late

and she standing
by Charing Cross station
was annoyed
the morning

had started bad
the nurse on the ward
questioned whether
she should be allowed out

after not taking
her medication
and who
was she meeting?

after such questioning
and the doctor saying
OK but to be back
by such and such

an hour
she felt like a child again
as if her parents
had been resurrected here

and not at home
traffic whirled by
noise
cars hooting

vans and lorries
passing by
people
O such people

Eliot was right
about death
undoing so many
she exhaled

watching the smoke
sit on the air
before being
whooshed off

by a passing car
last time Benedict said
he'd meet her
by the station

at such and such
a time
and here she was
but not he

she leaned
against the fence
last time they'd gone
to the cinema

but this time
she wanted
more time away
from such places

to be with him
not sit
and watched a film
but where was he?

she felt like a *****
standing there
smoking
one hand supporting

one elbow
one hand holding
the cigarette in such
a sluttish way

she did feel
such a ****
wearing the short skirt
and the red top

her hair drawn severely
into a bun
at the back
of her head

last time
in Trafalgar Square
she'd been almost
picked up twice

dressing as she had
telling them
to *******
getting mad

even the nurse
on the ward
thinks she a ****
especially after

that quick ***
with Benedict
in that side room
she laughed  

and inhaled
her spirits rising
with the sight of him
coming up the hill

from the underground
waving his hand madly
happy to see him
knowing the day

after all won't end
that badly
and the image
in her mind

of the ***
in the cupboard
amidst brooms
and buckets

and mops
in the dark
and the fumbling
and he walking fast

towards her
that bright expression
in his eyes
thinking that is how

worlds are born
while another dies.

Through Bedlam Park
to the swimming pool
your towel and trunks
under your arm

the weather good
and Yochana said
she’d learn to swim
if it was the last thing

she did
and you went
to the locker room
and paid your coins

and got into your swimwear
and out into the pool
with the other bodies
getting wet and playing

and trying to swim
and Yochana came out
in her pink two piece
and stood

on the edge
of the pool
and you said
come on in

the waters cool
and as long
as some fool
don’t **** in it

it’s worth a go
she hesitated
standing there
arms in the air waving

flapping her hands
like some young bird
learning to fly
come on in

you said
but still
she stood there
on the edge

her blonde hair
held back
in a rubber band
what’s a matter?

you called
she closed her eyes
and kind of dived in
but more like

a fall sideways on
and you went to her
and helped lift her head
out of the water

and she was sputtering
and spitting out water
I christen you
Yochana the mermaid

you said and
she laughed
spitting out more water
get scared

she said
the thought of it
and she began to go
into swimming motions

putting arms in
and throwing them about
but she just sank
and you yanked her out  

and she stood there
water running down
her face into
her eyes

did I swim then?
she said
did I?
no you sank

you said
sank like a **** stone
can you show me?
she said

no I can’t swim myself
you said
well who can then?
she asked

go ask Ann
she can
or that plump woman
over there

she looks like
she can
you said
but she didn’t

she just walked
through the water
or made pretend motions
or sat down and tried

but no doing
but at least
she was laughing
and having fun

and you gave
the impression
of swimming
but it was all

just a game
and worth the coins
of getting in
and seeing

Yochana there
enjoying the water
and games
and water

in her hair
and ears
and eyes
and her hand

holding yours
if she felt
she was going under
or about to drown

and the water tasted
of god knows what
and the sky was blue
and the weather hot.

Hedley’s mother had hairy legs.
That’s one reason you liked to

go over for tea some days. That
and the fact she wore the kind

of short dress no other women
you knew would wear at least

not in front of minors like yourself
and Hedley.  More tea? Cake?

she asked giving you the big smile
and oozing her perfume from her

nearby body. Yes more cake please
and are those salmon sandwiches?

Yes dear and there’s plenty more
if you want she replied. She poured tea

and brought more cake and sandwiches
and sat down opposite you and said

how’s your mother dear? Oh she’s ok
you said gazing dumbly at Hedley’s

mother and the way her hands moved
over the plates and held the teapot

with the red fingernails and the rings
on her fingers. Is your husband not here?

you asked. No he’s away business calls
and such like she said giving you the smile

and bright eyes. Oh good glad he’s got
plenty of work on you replied. Hedley ate

and drank and said little over tea. His
mother ate quite daintily her fingers

holding the cup with her little digit sticking
out as she drank. Ah she said suddenly

I forgot the jelly and ice-cream and off
she walked and you watched as she went.

Her hairy legs really grabbed your attention.
Mothers huh? Hedley said. Keeping face

against the odds. Father’s probably
******* his female clients or staying

over in cheap hotels with the red-light girls.
Oh right you said guess some father’s do.

Here’s the jelly and ice cream Hedley’s
mother said on her return hope you like it

she said I like it when it wobbles and the soft
taste on the tongue. Hedley said nothing and

nor did you. You were thinking of Hedley’s father
and those cheap hotels and the girls he’d *****.

The Kid sits
opposite
the wheelchair

with Anne
telling him
about her

painful leg
when it aches
it frigging

drives me mad
she tells him
she pulls up

her red skirt
to show him
the naked

stump of leg
yet it aches
in the part

that's not there
she explains
he gapes at

the fleshy
stump of leg
why is that?

he asks her
how the heck
would I know

pull that down
this moment
the nun says

angrily
coming near
from the home

her black and
white habit
flapping quick

about her
Anne stares
at the nun

what's got your
white knickers
in a twist?

she utters
to the nun
who do you

think you are
showing off
your leg stump?

she yanks down
the red skirt
to cover

the leg stump
don't touch me
you penguin

Anne says
decency
my young girl

you Benny
why are you
watching her?

the nun asks
I showed him
where it hurts

Anne says
you shouldn't
show your leg

it's my leg
what is left
don't be rude

the Kid looks
at the nun
just looking

what she showed
just her stump
he explains

you mustn't
the nun says
anymore

doing that
young Anne
and I'll tell

Sister Paul
and the nun
walks away

her habit
flapping slow
about her

as she walks
what a dumb
arsed penguin

Anne says
they both watch
the young nun

as she walks
on the lawn
to the home

for sick kids
by the sea
anyway

that's my leg
or the stump
do you want

another
look and see?

Elaine sat
on her bed

her plump hands
in her lap

palms upward

wondering
which lines there

was the life
and which was

the love line,
she'd read it

in some place
on a page

in her mum's
magazine,

which her mum
had left there

for Elaine
to study

about girls
and bodies,

periods,
the naming

of each part,
with a line

like a thin
black arrow

showing there
what was what.

What she saw
made her blush

and quickly
turned the page

to see where
her love line

or life live
was on her

upturned palm.
The bold word:

******,
stuck in her

mind like glue;
like having

a brand new
item in her

plumpish palms,
turning round

with fingers
anxiously

not knowing
what to do.

A woman’s touch. Yet to
another woman applied,
towelling dry, older, hands

slightly more worn, eyeing
the young woman, secretly
wishing. The young woman,

naked except the pink bow
in brown hair, thinking of
something other, not sensing

anything of the woman drying,
the touch, the towel, is far
from her thoughts, maybe some

boyfriend and his recent deeds
or words or both. The bath
had been refreshing, the water

just right, the older woman
always has it so, the towel laid
out, the soap prepared, washing

the back, places she cannot reach.
The older woman seems to take
her time, drying each area of skin

with some daintiness, a delicate
touch, wanting more maybe or
nothing very much. The younger

woman, feeling dryer, more in
touch with self, thoughts ordered
into place, takes no notice of the

other woman’s rub of ******* or
under arms, no thought of hers at
all, no grace, no charms, the recent

boyfriend, he who made to her such
passionate entering and kissings,
she feels like a fatted calf, some well

stuff bird, pleased with her self, her
sense of need fulfilled, the pleasure
dome having been reached and done.

The older woman drying now the thighs
has no wish to end her task, no other love
or want, except what’s there before her eyes.

Easter Sunday Grumore sits
Down in the chapel of the old
Church light pouring in from
High windows and he watches
A young woman dressed all in
White with long black hair by
The statue of the ****** kneeling
In prayer and he imagines what’d
Be like to wake each day in his
Large bed to see her there sleeping
Naked and him able to have her
There and Monica deep in her
Prayer to the ****** is unaware
Of Grumore there sitting behind
His dark brown eyes drinking her
In lapping her up to his ***** mind
And *** dreams and kneeling there
Her knees aching her prayers pouring
Remembers boys in her school days
Chattering her up thinking her cheap
Putting their hands on her body God’s
Small chapel while Grumore’s eyes
Sitting behind sweep over her his
Tongue hanging out of his mouth
Like a thin snake and he dreaming
He was licking her naked flesh then
Monica opens her eyes and sees the
Blue clothed ****** there gazing at
Her a gentle smile the bright blue
Eyes but Grumore sees the ******’s
Stare the judgment gaze no smiling
Lips upon him there in the chapel
Easter Sunday he looks away.

On the road
from Madrid to Malaga
you sat next to Miryam
in the coach

the scenery going by
the Spanish sun above
music from the radio
and she beside you

her head
against your shoulder
sleeping
her red hair

a mass of curls and waves
her eyes closed
her mouth slightly open
her hands crossed

in her lap
you sitting there
thinking of the base camp
in Madrid

the bar and *****
the music
in the small disco
and dancing

to the small hours
and she said
about her parents
and she being

for the first time
free to do
what she wanted
and she walked with you

back to her tent
and there she stood
and said
if I was alone

in this tent
I'd invite you in for ***
but I'm sharing
with another girl

and so did you share
with another guy
you said
wishing it otherwise

and so she kissed you
good night
and unzipped the tent
and went in

and off you walked
through the early morning dark
crossing the field of tents
trying to remember

where yours was
remembering it was by
the hedge with Bob's flag
on top waving silently

in the semi-dark
she stirred
against your shoulder
and readjusted her head

making that
I'm comfortable sound
and then she was off again
a Beatles's song

on the radio
someone sang along
you still sensing
that kiss of hers

her lips on yours
the night before
her hands
around your waist

her small ****
pressing against you
the smell of oranges
and ripe fruit

and her tongue invading
your mouth
touching yours
and your pecker stirring

from slumber
your hands on her ****
feeling the pockets
of her jeans

the smooth material
the studs
her near you
lips and tongues

and she stirred
and opened her eyes
and lifted her head
from your shoulder

and said
are we there yet?
no
you said

getting near
and she looked out
the window of the coach
and you studied

her profile
the blush of cheek
the nose
her neck

and the show
of naked shoulder
and she said
did I snore?

no  
you said
good
she said

because sometimes
I tend to go off
into snoring land
and she smiled

and touched your thighs  
and all you saw
was the blue world
of her cool blue eyes.

Sister Bernadette
came rushing
across the grass
to where Anne

was screaming
about the pain
in her amputated leg
sitting next to you

by the small white table
where does it hurt?
Sister Bernadette asked
in the leg

Anne screamed
but the leg’s been amputated
the sister said
lifting the hem

of Anne’s skirt
showing space
where once a leg
had been

you turned
your head away
Malcolm was swinging
on the swing

his hands gripping
the steel chains
on either side
as he rode his ride

I know the ******* leg’s gone
Anne screamed
but it still hurts
language

in front of the children
Sister Bernadette said
I’ll speak to Matron
and see what she says

and off the sister went
leaving Anne following her
with her deep eyes
you looked back at Anne

taking in her dark hair
plaited into two plaits
I think they call it
a phantom leg

you said
what is?
Anne said
turning and staring at you

a limb amputated
but still causing pain
you said
what you a doctor now Skinny Kid?

no
you said
just saying what I read
some place

forget it
she said
hand me my crutches
you handed her her crutches

and she stood up
and crutched herself away
towards the far end
of the garden

come on Skinny Kid
she said
let’s go catch the sea
coming in or going out

and breathe some salt air
ok
you said
running to catch her up

her one leg
swinging forward
a lonesome traveller
across the well mown lawn

her naked thigh and calf
showing as the skirt rose
in motion
and filling the air

like a gull cry
her bellowing laugh.

Between biology
and double maths
Christina met Benedict
in the recess

of the tuck shop
and the passage
that led off
towards the hall.

As the other members
of her class walked on,
she in whispered voice said,
I won’t see you

on the sports field lunch time
because of the ****** rain.
He moved in closer,
sensing her body press

against his
in the small space.
It might clear up, he said.
Her hands wrapped about him,

she pulled him close.
But the grass will still be wet
and they don’t let us out
if it’s wet, she whispered.

He knew that, but wanted
to feel her breath against
his skin as she spoke.
The moment seemed to be

lacking of the motion of time.
Silence filled the air about them;
the darkness of the recess
seemed lighter as their eyes

grew accustomed
to the dimness.
Miss you most
when I don’t see you, she said.

Her hands squeezed him near her.
He sensed her soft *******
against his chest.
I look at your photo

and when no one is looking
I kiss it, she breathed out
as she spoke.
I keep your photo tucked

in the small wallet
my mother bought me, he said.
he smelt her hair;
it had a scent of fresh flowers.

She pulled him in closer;
his hands felt the small
of her back, his fingers
sensed the pulse of her heart,

through the white cloth
of her blouse. The toes
of their shoes touched,
she leaned in and kissed

his cheek, moving in damp
moves toward his lips.
The small space seemed
to hold in a silence except

of their words and breathing;
their eyes grew accustomed
to the dimness of light, each
saw the others' eyes.

Foot steps drew near,
the pitter patter on linoleum
floor, they broke apart,
held hands, squeezed themselves

against the door
of the tuck-shop recess.
A teacher walked by;
unnoticed they breathed out,

hands squeezing.
The sound grew fainter.
Best go, he said, late for class.
She kissed him again,

her lips pressed hard
against his. She went out
of the recess and off
along the passage.

He stood a few seconds,
then followed; she had gone,
the dampness still clung
to his cheek and lips’ skin.

His pulse of heart raced
like the engine of a racing car,
he paced the passage like
some pilgrim without guide or star.

That’s Speedwell
and that’s Red Sorrel

Jane said
pointing out

the wildflowers
as you both walked

down the lane
that led to the empty cottage

with apples trees
in the garden

and gooseberry bushes
in fruit by hedges

They all look the same to me
you said

Just flowers growing
she shook her head

and smiled and said
You townies

do you know nothing
of nature’s beauty?

I’m looking at beauty now
you replied

and as you both walked on
down the lane

she in her summery dress
and you in your

open neck shirt
and faded jeans

you felt the morning sun
touching your head

like a fond mother
and the smell of flowers

and sound of birds
and she said

after a minute
or so of silence

Father says beauty
is only skin deep

real beauty lies
in a person’s soul

if that soul is not blemished
by sin that is

and you looked at her
hand by her side

swinging as she walked
and the fingers curled

as if she held
something invisible

yet ready to throw
and you took in

her white ankle socks
above her brown sandals

and the calves of her legs
and her thighs

just showing
as the dress moved

and you breathed in deep
like one immersed

in water about to drown
of love or the feeling of such

and you said
I guess he’s right

but I love the beauty
of skin pretty much

and she laughed
and her laughter

shooed off birds
from the tree tops around

who probably never heard
such a beautiful sound.

Nima waits
by the Embankment
of the Thames
she has a few hours

freedom
a few hours to do
as she pleases
(within reason)

the doctors said
OK but no
needle pushing
no pill popping

and so she agreed
and was on her way
although the ward sister
wasn't pleased

she didn't like
her wordiness
her being
too up front

for lying
on her bed at night
******* her ****
thinking of Naaman

but she went anyway
took the train
and sits waiting
having put

on the all
too tight dress
(her father's words
on his rare visits)

and the tight top
with yellow birds
and she watches
the water flowing

the boats and barges
and the occasional
row boat going by
and then he's there

having come out
the tube station
concerned looking
his hair dark

and groomed
the jeans
and open necked shirt
been waiting long?

he asks
yes been almost
picked up twice
as a *****

she says
told them
go **** themselves
he looks at her

and beyond
the river's dullness
buses passing by
cars

motorcycles
lorries
the city alive
sorry about that

he says
train delays
she smiles
no matter

you're here now
how long
have you got?
he asks

a few hours of grace
she says
the doctors were good
said I could come

although the ward sister
the *****
almost put her oar in
but here I am

all yours
well for a while
at least
so where are we going?

how about a coffee
in the park
and a lay down
on the grass to chat

and smooch and relax
no art or cinema
or record shops
or window shopping

he says
or ***
she says
no place

unless you want to
want to have ago
in the bushes
or maybe be daring

and have it away
on  a park bench?
she smiles
no coffee

and a chat will do
he says
besides
I don't perform well

in public
and so they walk up
the road
and cross

by Trafalgar Square
and on down
and into the park
she talking about

dying for a fix
and other things
and he talking about
his boring job

the sitting
and drilling holes
into metal
or the pressing

of two sides
of metal together
and how he'd heard
the new Beatles' LP

something about
a Doctor Pepper
they buy two coffees
and talk on

she gazing at his hair
the eyes staring at her
his mouth opening
and closing

bringing her words
his fingers touching hers
his having dark hairs
along the fingers

hers none
white
thin
good for *******

and he studying
her eyes
seeing himself there
in that darkness

in that faraway place
far from God's kingdom
but near(he thinks)
to His grace.

Fay sat
on the grass
with you
with Banks House

behind you
the windows
with their lace curtains
revealed no spying eyes

and she had her hair
pushed back
with grips
and her yellow

flowered dress
pulled over
her knees
and she said

her father was away
so she could be out
and see her friends
without a third degree

and you watched her
as she spoke
how she gestured
with her hands

her fingers thin
the nails trimmed
and she said her mother
cried in the night

and she had gone
to listen and her father
was bellowing
and she crept

back to her room
and hid beneath
the blankets
in case he came out

of his room and saw
her still awake
and you took in
her pale features

how the skin
seemed transparent
as if you might see
into her heart

and watch it beat
and when she stopped speaking
you said  Moorcraft
had taken you to the Scouts

but you only went
the one night
why?
she asked

I got caught up in a fight
you said
some kid pushed me
off the ropes and I fell

so I went punched him
she sat and stared
at you and was not impressed
that’s not you

she said
be yourself
and she lowered
her eyes

and gazed
at her brown shoes
and you wanted
to say sorry

and take one
of her hands
and hold it
against your

cheek’s skin
but you didn’t
you spoke of
the sword

your old man
had made you
the blue bladed
metal sword

you wore
in the belt
around your jeans
lets talk of other things

she said and she
looked up at you
and said she liked
your patterned

no sleeve jumper
and your neat cut hair
but all you could do
was drink in

her girly beauty
and stupidly stare.

That is it
all over
Elaine thinks

on the bus
after school
she and John

and the kiss
all done with
everything

on the edge
her nerves wrought
as if each

hidden thought
was exposed
to everyone

silently
she sits near
the window

looking out
tears sitting
on the rims

of her eyes
like actors
impatient

to get on
to the stage
and perform

she’d seen John
walk on by
to get on

the school bus
he is there
across the

aisle sitting
looking out
as she is

wondering
what went wrong
what he’d said

or done wrong
at lunch time
on the field

at recess
he saw her
on the bus

sitting there
looking out
not at him

pretending
not to know
he is there

Goldfinch talks
beside him
some such stuff

in his ears
empty words
soft laughter

all John wants
is Elaine
to have her

near to him
her body
close and warm

not this cold
far distance
between them

Elaine feels
all undone
all exposed

each nerve taut
every
thought of John

being near
but not near
wanting him

next to her
as it was
before lunch

the bus moves
to go home
she watches

scene changes
vibrations
moving tears

to the edge
like fragile
suicides

thinking on
the long fall
but her love

bites deeply
all undone
can’t recall.

Nima said the art gallery stank
and all those middle class types
(she being one herself
what with her education

and upbringing and all)
and the usual
bourgeoisie stuff
on the walls

and she huffed
and puffed
and so Naaman took her
to Leicester Square

to some bar he knew
and got her a drink
and lit her a cigarette
and she said

she needed a fix
got the hunger for it
but they’d know
at the hospital

when she got back
and there would be
hell to pay
and the parents

would blow their top
them being doctors and all
and so what they’d say
to her she couldn’t repeat

so she just drank her drink
and smoked her smoke
and Naaman said
he quite liked the art

in the gallery
especially the modern stuff
and the Yank guy
wasn’t really trying

to chat her up
he just wanted
to draw her attention
to the riches

of our monarchy
oh sure he was
she said
he was after

getting into my pants
and she got all verbal
against men and Yanks
and the **** war

in Vietnam
and Naaman just sat
and listened to her jabbering
her eyes lit up

like lights in a harbour
her small **** moving
as she gestured
her tight jeans

(red cords)
hugging her thighs
(a feast to his eyes)
her fingers holding

the cigarette
the pink nails
the unbitten nails
the slim hands

then she stopped
and drained her glass  
and said she had
to go ****

and so he watched her go
wiggling her hips
her fine tight ***
and he thought

of that time
in the hospital
at the last visit
when he and she

snuck into that
small room
where they kept
brooms and such

and had a quick ****
she in her nightgown
(pulled up)
and he half

listening out
for sounds
hoping a domestic
didn’t come

and want a broom
or brush
and when she came back
he went off with her

through the Square
and along
Charing Cross Road
she talking of the state

of the toilet back there
the things
some women do
the messy *******

and on she went again
her voice jabbering away
and he knew
she needed her fix

needed it bad
so he got a tube train
to Victoria Station
and on to the hospital

where she was kept  
the nurse being
quite concerned
at her state

and took her away
and she waved
(Nima not the nurse)
and blew him a kiss

from her palm
and he blew one back
knowing it wouldn’t reach
her lips or ***

but would do her
no harm.

Ingrid hears
her mother's
cries and moans

in the night
flesh slamming
against flesh

she cringes
wondering
if she'll be

next in line
she is torn
by her fear

should she stay
just in case
her father

doesn't come
or should she
go and see

if her mum
is ok?
her room's dark

a slither
of light comes
from the moon

through curtains
a steam train
goes over

the steel bridge
just over
the roadway

she listens
for more moans
flesh on flesh

thump thump slap
she sits up
on the edge

of her bed
there are sounds
whimpering

then footsteps
in the hall
her father

shouting out
she cringes
she wishes

Benedict
was there now
she wishes

he could be
her young knight
in shining

armour on
his snow white
horse charger

but he's not
he's asleep
in a flat

down the stairs
she hears her
mother's moans

a door slams
then silence
she creeps back

into bed
carrying
Benedict

her young knight
in armour
in her head.

Benedict wasn’t
in school that day
Christina heard
and the whole day

to get through
without him
to see or talk with
at lunch recess

on the field
she sat through
double maths
in a daze

of boredom
catching sight
of some boys
on the sports field

warming up
for sports
in their shorts
and tops

but it was of no thrill
for her
without Benedict
being out there

running about
with his legs bare
she sat all through
biology writing down

words from the board
into her book
without interest
or care

sneaking a peak
at the photo of him
in her writing case
the one he gave her

for the one she
gave him
the other day
she mused

crossing the T’s
and dotting the i's
they’d gone
onto the sports field

after lunch
during recess
walked about
away from the boys

kicking ball
or the girls
sitting in groups
laughing

and chatting
up near the fence
beside the wood
they stood

he talking
of some actress
who'd died
or committed suicide

and she taking in
his neck
the open shirt
the tie undone

his bare skin
sensing unknown things
feelings awaking
and she listened

and stood near
his hand inches
to hers
and she talked

of her mother
and the moans
about this and that
and wanting stockings

but her mother saying
no you're too young
and how she sneaked
into her mother’s room

and tried some on
and he smiled
and took her hand
feeling her fingers

between his thumb
and finger
pressing gently
and she looked

about her
turned and kissed him
her lips on his
his words lost

his fingers pressing
along her back
but now she sat
gazing at the girl in front

whose dark brown hair
was woven neatly
in a plait
resting on her sharp

white collar
and green knitted jumper
if only Benedict
was here

she thought
hands beneath the desk
touching
fingers holding

knees pressing
against each
but that was all a dream
and he beyond reach.

Book us a bed
and room for the day
Julie said
so you did

in some cheap dive
off Charing Cross Road
you were up London
for the day

so that booked
(the dame gave you
that oh yes of course
it's for ***

kind of look)
you ventured
to Dobell's Jazz shop
and picked out

an Ornette Coleman LP
and went into a booth
and was blown away
some concert

in Stockholm
he'd done
after that
you met Julie

in Trafalgar Square
and she was waiting there
dull of hair and eyes
(drug withdrawal)

and said
did you do it?
yes booked it
not far from here

you said
she nodded
and looked about her
at the crowds

and Nelson's Column
and the lion statues
shall we go now then?
she said

OK
you said
and you took her along
to where

the cheap dive was
and the dame
at the desk
gave her

enjoy it kid gaze
and up
the windy stairs
to an upper storey

and opened up the door
and went in
bit of a dump
Julie said

looking around  
a double bed
and chest of drawers
and dressing table

and a gas heater
she walked into
the bathroom
with a huge bath

and two enormous taps
you looked out
the window
which looked out

at a brick wall
it'll do
she said
and went to the bed

and sat on it
and bounced
up and down
a few times

not bad
she said
so then she took of her coat
and kicked off her shoes

and began to take off
her red jumper
are you here
just to watch?

she said
pulling the jumper
over her head
no just waiting

for the go
you said
well go then
she said

and you took off
the ankle boots
and jacket
and unbutton

your creamy shirt
and you noticed
her white bra
and the smallness

of her ****
and taking off
your shirt
you thought

of that quick ***
in the cupboard
in the hospital
where she was

for the drugs
and all
and how quick
and cramped

it was in there
yet here was room
and bed and you unzipped
your wide bottomed trousers

and stepped out of them
and she was already
in the bed
laying there waiting

and you got in
beside her
and touched her
right ***

and she said
**** me
your hand is cold
warm it up

she said
so you did
and she was happier then
with you beside her

your warmed up hands
feeling her
touching and holding
and she kissed you

and put her hands
about you
and then
it was all go

and outside London
was moving on
traffic roared
people getting

on with lives
a cat meowed
and a car backed fired
the gas fire spat out flames

and after the ***
laying back
she said
the nurse at the hospital

told the doctors
I was missing out
on medication
and taking

a backward step
(she'd taken a pill or two
from some ****
at a London club)

and as she talked
her head on the pillow
a cigarette held aloft
you lay beside her

thinking of her body
her thighs
her *******
her lips

her eyes
your cigarette held
to one side
smoke rising

ceiling ward  
you wanted
to make love again
as outside

on the windowsill
the sharp
pitter patter
of heavy rain.

We sat on the grass in front of Banks House near the bomb shelters now unused but still there like monuments of a tragic past and the coal wharf across the way where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons waited to be loaded with coal and coke and the railway bridge over Rockingham Street where steam trains passed over noisily and behind us the windows of the flats of Banks House where nosey neighbours spied on the passing world and Fay said her father and mother had rowed that morning rowed loud enough to have the woman below in the flats to knock on her ceiling as if to say they were making too much noise with their voices and her father had stamped down on the floor as if to say mind your business and I asked her what they were arguing about and she said it was about her mothers attitude about church going and her faith being not what it was and her father had said she would end up in Hell and was it fair on her daughter to have a mother who was destined for such a place and I said it was her mothers choice about her faith if she had one still or even if she didnt any more Fay wasnt sure about it after all she said faith was a gift from God and a gift that needed nurturing and looking after not to be neglected or lost or so her father had said and even the nuns at school had said similar things at R.E. a week or so before and I said if faith was a gift from God how comes that some people never seem to have got it never got the gift of faith at all or if they had got the gift it had slipped through their fingers? she wasnt sure I could see it in her eyes and I knew she had a real fear of her father of his violence and his strictness regarding her faith and her knowledge of her faith and he didnt like her going out with me because he said I wasnt Catholic and had a lack of attitude towards faith of any kind and he-her father- didnt like me and had warned her not to go out with me and said dont you go out with that Benedict boy but she had secretly and stood the chance of punishment if she was found out being out with me and  she said she was between two people she loved her mother and her father and hoped to God they would not split up as her mother said at times when they rowed that she would and take me with her if she left that serious? I said and she said it seemed like it to her and after rows like the one today it seemed more likely than before and she said her father said that she could not leave him as they were married in the eyes of God and to leave would be to break her vows before God and be in a state of sin and a sin that could mean she was destined to go to Hell I opened the Tizer bottle I had brought with me from the off license and offered her a swig and she took the bottle in her hand and took a short swig and offered it back to me and I wiped the bottle top with my hand and took a big swig and it made my eyes water as the bubbles exploded up my nose I didnt like the thought of Fay being taken off by her mother and that I might not see her any more I couldnt bear to think of you not being around here any more I said she eyed the windows of the flats behind us  and leaned close to me and kissed my cheek I hope I don't leave here she said my friends are here and my dad and you especially she said I studied her blonde hair the smooth hair brought into a ponytail and the yellow dress she wore and white socks and the black shoes- slightly scuffed- maybe we should run away she said just us but she had said it in a romantic kind of way of thinking us being just twelve years old but it seemed quite fun in a romantic kind of way and I said sure where will we go? France she said Id like to go there and see men in berets and hear that French music and drink coffee at table on streets corners I smiled sounds good I said I offered her the Tizer bottle again and she wiped the top of the bottle with her palm and drank a big mouthful then gave it back to me where would you like to go? she asked me I said America to see Dodge City and see  where cowboys used to gunfight and maybe we could live in a log cabin and have a dog and keep cattle  and she smiled and kissed me and said you and your cowboys and such I drank from the Tizer bottle and put it on the grass beside me what about Rome? she said and see the Pope and the Vatican and the paintings and see other nuns and priests I saw her look at me and I smiled and said we could go to the seaside near by and go bathing and sit on the beach and have drink and sandwiches and just lie on the sand and look up at the sun and relax thatd be good she said looking at me but of course we will have to wait until we are older she said otherwise Daddy will come looking for us and then Id really be for it once he found us I sat looking at her trying to take in what I could of her in case her mother took her away from here and me and left a big hole in my twelve year old life and maybe I thought if we wait long enough we could marry and she could be my blonde haired blue eyed wife.

Summer rain came suddenly
and you and she

had just got off the school bus
and had to run for shelter

and so entered the wood
and settled beneath some trees

which at least kept off
some of the rain

and as you both stood there
looking about the woodland

and listening to the rain
fighting its way through

the overhead branches and leaves
smelling the rain smell

hearing the sound
of rain falling

she said suddenly
That was unexpected

one minute the sun’s shining
the next the downpour

and she turned
and looked at you

raindrops falling down
from her hair onto

the side of her nose
and sitting there

for a few moments
then sliding down

and moving along
her cheek

and you wiped
the drops off

with the end of your finger
and she took your finger

and mouthed it
and licked off the rain

and held your finger
in her hand

and said laughing
That was my raindrop

and you saw
how her lips parted

and in such a way
that you sensed

an inner explosion
of what you thought of

as love and said
Rain is rain

it’s got its own smell
and touch

and feel
and she moved her lips

to your finger
and licked it once more

and you laughed
and felt your heart leap inside

and she said
releasing your finger

Love is love
something like rain

something you feel
and sense and know

and she kissed you and said
Mum’ ll wonder where I am

we’d better go
and moving out

from beneath the trees
you ran off together

into the falling rain
all over again.

He first notice Elaine
as she waited
for the school bus
standing there

in the pouring rain
with her younger sister
and other kids
from the village

he noticed
how drowned she looked
her spectacles so wet
she couldn’t see out

her dark hair
hanging limp
about her face
and she looked down

not up
as she climbed
aboard the bus
making her way

down the aisle
of the bus
like some female Crucified
and sat in the seat

by the window
and peered out
her sister sat
next to her

equally as wet
yet unperturbed
laughing at another
who jested

at her state
but Elaine's
was a separate state
a lesser one's fate

knowing other eyes
gazed and sniggered
and whispered
into their hands

but not John
he saw her through  
his own eyes
pushed away

the sneers
and sighs
and sniggering japes
and saw a deeper soul

within peering out
through the window glass
that showed
the falling rain

he looked away
taking note of her hair
and eyes
and glasses smeared

and how she pushed
her wet hands
between the caresses
of her knees

and dampened skirt
how by the look
of her face
revealed

her inner hurt
and as the bus
moved off and on
the radio blaring

some Mike Sarne song
the voices of children
competing for the space
and John half listening

to Trevor talk
some such of fishing
with a friend
at pond or river

he did not discern
or Trevor’s sister
across the aisle
chatting of some dress

her mother bought
not the fashion
she complained
but John held close

the image of the girl
who sat behind
across the aisle
whose dampened

state of dress
and soul
had moved his mind
and touched his heart

but said nothing
to either Trevor
with talk of fish
and rod

or Monica's dress
or clothes whatever
it had been
unfashionable or such

as undesired
he looked out
at the passing scene
as the bus raced by

thinking of Elaine
sitting a little way
behind
wiping the raindrops

from glasses
so she could see
and not be
half blind.

Early summer
after school
after low tea
of bread and jam

and a glass of milk
you sat with Fay
on the roof
of the pram shed

of Banks House
and looked up
Meadow Row
watching the sun

slowly going down
on the busy horizon
she clothed
in a grey dress

with black plimsolls
and you in fading jeans
and open necked shirt
and she said

my daddy says
I’ve to learn
the Credo in Latin
by the summer holidays

or there’ll be trouble
what the heck’s the Credo?
you asked
looking at the heels

of her plimsolled feet
hitting the wall
of the pram shed
it’s the I Believe prayer

setting out the items
of our beliefs
in the Catholic Church
why Latin?

you said
noticing fading bruises
on her thighs
as the hem

of her dress moved
as she banged her heels
against the wall
because daddy said so

she said
looking
at the orangey sun
in the darkening

blue sky
I don’t know many prayers
you said
at least

not all the way through
except the ones
they teach us
at school

even then
some of the boys
put their own words in
which I couldn’t

repeat to you
she looked at you
her fair hair
adding beauty

to her pale face
and water colour blue
of eyes
best not to

she said softly
don’t your parents
insist you learn prayers?
she asked

no
you said
my old man
wouldn’t know a prayer

if it came up
and tickled his moustache
she smiled
and looked away

then after a few moments
of silence
she said
the sun looks

like a big orange
on a big blue cloth
doesn’t it?
yes

you said
looking skyward
then watched
the traffic pass by

at the end
of Meadow Row
and the bombsite outline
on the right hand side

and the shadows caused
by the lowering sun
then you lowered
your sight

to the fading bruises
on her thighs
and the watercolour blue
of her bright clear eyes.

You have seen flowers fade,
Grown men falter, hard rain
Against bedroom windows,

Felt the numbness of the still
Born babe, sensed the slap
Across the face from Mother’s

Hand, felt the wind of time
Finger your hair, your lover’s
Kiss dry on the brow. You have

Known the hammer blows of
Love, the silence of the night
Alone, the empty bed of lust,

The tiredness at dawn. You
Sought unconditional love,
But found only the love with

Strings attached, with a price
Tag on the gift of love and touch
And maybe promises. You have

Felt the dead baby fall, the womb
Ring empty in the troubled nights,
The poxed phallus between the

Thighs, the sour kisses of long
Betraying love. You have played
Bach until the ears bled, played

Cards with a drowned woman,
Dreamed of the sister you never
Had, dreamed of the baby you

Lost, felt the baby **** on the
Dug, sensed the dream fade to
A dead baby’s coffin. You sleep

And you wake, you want to live
And want to die, you want to be
Forever young, a perpetual mother,

A constant lover, an untroubled
Daughter, not be lonely, left in
The dark, sacrificed on someone’s

****** altar. You are and am not,
Born to be, then left to rot, you
Want your mother’s embrace,

Want certainty, want undying
Love, God’s redeeming grace.

Claudia
masturbates.

That tall girl
in high school
over night
showed her ways.

She watches
the full moon
drift between
clouds and stars.

Her father,
in her youth,
crossed her palm
with silver
(don’t ask why
or for what),
he was cold,
she was hot.

That teacher
with the lisp
the blonde one
she of maths
and science,
kept her in
after school
talked of books
she had read
and music  
she had heard,
then kissed her,
promising
higher grades,
extra help
in subjects
of her choice.

Claudia,
between French
and Russian,
sees Pedro
making out
with the short
ugly *****
in the gym
spying them
on tiptoes
peering through
high windows,
saliva
on her lips,
capturing
memories
to take home
for her nights,
the lone games,
pretending
Pedro’s lance
pierces her
and not that
ugly *****
in the gym.

Claudia
dreams of love,
embraces
her body,
puts kisses
on her arms
and her thighs,
waiting for
that true love,
she’s been told,
never dies.

Walking away
from the church
down the narrow lane
her sister with another

up front
she said
my mother seems to think
there's something going on

between me and you
what something?
you asked
she looked up front

some one has talked
of you and me
she said
your sister?

you asked
maybe
who else?
you smelt the blossoms

from the overhanging trees
heard bird song
from the hedges
a car went by

church goers
returning home
to lunch or dinner
but what has she said?

you asked
how do I know?
she said
but now my mother

watches me like a hawk
and if it wasn't
that I'm church going
and in the choir

she wouldn't let me out
of her sight
she sighed and looked away
what happens now?

you asked
be careful that's all
she said
what about now here

and us walking together?
she grabbed your hand
and squeezed it
and pulled you to her

and she kissed you
quickly and firmly
that
she said

that and more
and you walked
as if on air
trying to grab

the moment
trying to stuff it away
in your memory box
for later times

her sister looked back
then away again
maybe she's jealous?
you said

maybe she's just trying
to get into mother's
good books
she said

that time
in the woods
behind your house
that time I sneaked out

and we went in the woods
down by the pond
and sat and talked
and we kissed

and stuff
yes
you said
then I think someone saw us

and told her
another car went by
someone waved
you both waved back

it was a good time there
the peaceful pond
the ducks
the birds overhead

that woodpecker we heard
and you thought
of that moment
when as she lay there

in the grass
and you looked down
at her there
that Russian peasant look

about her
that love felt
and her lips
speaking soft

like wings flapping
of butterflies
you saw in her eyes
the white clouds

and blueness
of the skies.

It was cool
inside
the Burgos Cathedral

the people pious
and otherwise
was in rows

either side
the priest
was up front

muttering in Spanish
the people
muttering back

and you stood
trying to find your place
in the book of mass

tucked in the seat
in front
what are they saying?

Mamie said
why is that old guy
giving me the eye

she was sitting
beside you in one
of the pews

her short skirt
showing plenty
of leg

her tight bust
pushing
to be free

is it Latin?
she asked
no Spanish

you said
she dragged
her finger

down the page
muttering words
you watched the priest

hands raised
his hands open
to the heavens

some old senora
was giving you
the evil eye

her dark eyes
like prunes
in a basin

of dull cream
searched you out
that old guy

is still licking me
with his oily eyes
Mamie said

you smelt the incense
the stink
of bodies unwashed

her perfume
her bust close
to your arm

pressing nearer
her hair wild
and bushy

was held in place
by a red Alice band
the old guy looked away

he’d had his fill
his eyes watery
aged

****** elsewhere
like aged slugs
Mamie closed

the mass book
put it back in place
and folded her hands

in mock prayer
like pose
her eyes drinking in

the scene
the priest
the altar

the windows
the statues
her voice soft

in your ear said
when can we
get out of here?

I need to ***
the priest held aloft
the host

the Christ
the Lamb of God
she pushed her hands

between her thighs
squeezed her knees
in anxious pose

ok you
said moving
from the pew

better go
before you wee
I suppose.

The tall
young monk
by the bell rope,

in the cloister,
by the refectory door,
off to Rome

the following day.
I tolled the bell
for Angelus,

rope between hands,
words between lips.
The peasant monk,

fading tonsure,
swept the cloister,
black habit dusty,

humble,
soft prayer,
inaudible mumble.

I visited Jupp's house,
we had planned
a ball game
in the park.

Mrs J was in the lounge
on a sofa with her cat.

Come in, Benny,
she said,
it is Benny isn't it?
I nodded.

Yes, although
I was named Benedict
after the saint.

What do you think
of my *****?
She asked.
Did you want
to stroke it?

I wanted to get out
and play ball,
not stroke her *****.

It purrs when excited,
she said.

It was purring,
or she was purring
under her breath
like some
stage ventriloquist.

She wore a white dress
with a brown bow,
and her black hair
was wavy and permed.

Come closer,
she said,
it won't bite;
sit on the sofa,
near me.

Where was Jupp?
I wanted to get
some fresh air.

I sat next to her
on the brown sofa.

She smelt
of perfume and soap.

The *****
was brown and white,
furry, smooth.

You can touch it,
she said,
feel the fur,
smooth and soft.

She took my hand
and placed it
on the *****.

I stroked it
reluctantly.

Her hand
held mine,
moving it
over the *****.

It's purring, see;
feel it?

I nodded.

You can always
come here
and see *****
and play with it,
she said.

I smiled weakly,
wanting out;
the perfume smell
sickly in my nose.

Then Jupp came in
and said,
I’m ready to go.

I got up from the sofa
and Mrs J said,
want to kiss *****
before you go?

I kissed
the **** *****
and we walked
off and away.

Outside I said
to Jupp,
you and your
mother's *****.

And he sighed
and said,
I know.

Janice met you
as you walked
across the bombsite
from the New Kent Road

to Meadow Row
you watched
as she trod
carefully over

bricks and stones
some half buried
under the settled
earth and mixed brick

her hands held out
like some tight-rope walker
and she saw you
and smiled

and said
Gran said I can come out
if I’m with you
so I came looking for you

and here you are
yes
you said
my usual place

amongst many
she stopped
where the ground
was even

and held her hands
in front of her
holding a small bag
you looked at her

in her red beret
and grey coat
her black shoes
and white socks

and she said
where are we going?
you looked at her bag
and said

what’s in the bag?
a small handkerchief
and purse
with six pence

and a penny
and a bar of chocolate
we can share
she said

where are we going?
she repeated
where do you
want to go?

Waterloo
to watch the trains?
she said
I know you like them

ok
you said
and you both
headed back

to the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
and stood there
waiting for the bus

she in her red beret
and coat
and you
in your jeans

and pullover
with the wiggly pattern
and she opened
her bag

and took out
the bar of chocolate
and broke it
in two

one for her
and one for you
wrapped in
its silver paper

and purple cover
just like two grown ups
each giving
to their lover.

I passed Enid's father
on the stairs
of the flats
gave him an icy glare

he was ******
so didn't care
he went down
and I went up

he was whistling
some song
I knew he was a prat
but what was wrong?

later that day
I met Enid
in the greengrocer shop
in Meadow Row

getting potatoes
and greens
for my mother
not to forget carrots

which I almost did
she came in the shop
in her faded red dress
her hair in a mess

red marks on her arm
one eye closing
as if half dozing
what did you want

young girlie?
the greengrocer
asked her
she gave him a list

and he sorted it out
I carried my bag
to the door
I saw your old man earlier

I said
gave him an icy glare
she looked at me
then at the carrots

orange and raw
then at the door
didn’t say anything
did you?

she asked
no I kept shtum
would have done
if I didn't think

he'd take it out
on you
I said
is this 3 pounds

of spuds?
the greengrocer asked
can't make out
the figure writ

she gazed
at the piece of paper
and said
yes 3 I think

and off he went
shoulders stooping
head bent
what happened

this time?
I asked
what did he do?
he said I slept in

too late or spoke
out of turn
Enid replied
belted me

thumped me
then I cried
the greengrocer
filled the small bag

she held
in her small hands
and took her coins
and gave her change

deep inside
a child wept
near to me
but out of range.

Rochester, public market,
New York, and you see
The woman standing there

With her bags full of shopping
Waiting for her husband to come
And return with the car, with a face

That tells of annoyance and speaks
Volumes. Where the **** is he,
She mutters unaware you can

Hear her as you pack away your
Shopping in the back of your old
Ford. Won’t be long he said,

Be just a moment, she says, her
Voice rising like the fat dame in
The opera house before the curtains

Fall, and here I am waiting and my
Feet aching, my migraine returning
And all he can think about is laying

A bet and going for a drink with that
Logan loon and me here standing like
Some worn out ***** desperate for

A final pickup. She turns around and
Gives you the stare, takes in your skimpy
Skirt, your dyed blond hair, then turns

Away and scratches her *** and moves
Her feet and looks up and down for her
Husband’s returning car. You close

Down the lid of the old Ford and get
Inside and sit and watch the woman
And wonder if she has kids and grand

Kids, or maybe a secret lover, some
Poor schmuck down on his life’s luck.
She swings one of the bags of shopping

In front of her legs, her agitation increasing,
Her face deepening with lines of her frustration.
He knows I don’t like him drinking while he

Drives, I told him if you’re going to drink,
Then I will drive, I don’t want the *******
Cops breathing through the car window on

Me just because of the your drunk reckless
Driving and what does he do? Goes off in the
Car to meet the Logan guy and bet and drink

And me here like some ****** waiting and
My feet aching and the piles giving me hell.
She stops as her husband’s car returns and

He pulls up and gets out real slow and puts
The bags in the back and says nothing, passing
Her by and getting back in his seat and she

Climbing in her side of the car says, Hi Honey,
Did you have a nice drink and bet with Logan?
Yeah, he says, but the horse fell and the beer

Was warm and Logan didn’t show and so I
Drank the warm beer and bet the one horse
And then came here. You? Had a good

Shopping trip? Sure, she says, her voice
Now mellow, a smile on her lips, just got
What we needed and they did my hair.

You watch as off they drive, and as they
Go off the woman gives you the middle
Digit up you sign and a dark black glare.