The first time our eyes met my heart said hello
my lips did not move because I'm so shy
my arms felt so heavy that's why I didn't wave hi
so I hoped that my smile directed to you said all that I wanted

The first time our sounds were exchanged it was more than the wine and spirits that lifted my spirit
I was taken by the fact that you would speak to me ... in public at that
your voice was a refreshing sound to all the noise I was used to hearing

The first time our lips met I've never experienced skin as soft as yours
I tasted how sweet your soul is
I got a taste of how unique you truly are

The first time our bodies got acquainted you were stripped of all of your insecurities
I used my hands to venture the uncharted
My fingers were portraying what my eyes wanted to say

The festival was bustling
With sights and scents
When I caught yours
It just seemed to all make sense
You walked over and said hi
I just smiled as awkward as I could
But just before you could wave goodbye
I picked up the rifle and asked you if I should

You nodded and told me to try
So I gave the man a dollar
Asked myself "How could this be? And why?"
I looked to you and down the sight
I prayed for that prize, closed one eye
Saddled up and pulled the trigger with all my might
The tin can hit the floor and you clasped your hands
Together in time, I've never felt so up in my life
I asked you what you wanted
You said your favorite team
And you got it

But you walked away
You said "I'll see you later"
When I expected you to stay
I guess I was just selfish
I guess it was just a stupid wish

In Hamburg
an American girl
climbed aboard
sitting next

to the Southend teacher
with the spectacles
and loud mouth
and she looked back

at the rest of you
and said
Hi you guys
how’s it going?

murmured replies returned
Moira said
behind
her cupped mouth

a ******* Yank
is all we need
you looked
windowward

spying new buildings
post-war
the could-be-any-where
kind of set up

the driver drove off
the Polish mother
and daughter
muttered

in their tongue
Moira’s hips
pushed into yours
as the mini bus

turned sharp
down some side street
the American girl
chatted up

the driver
some long haired
hippy type
smoking and puffing

and you remembering
the night before
the tent up
the canvas tight

and you and Billy
down on your bags
he staring up
at the canvas  

green and unclean
you listening to Moira
in the next tent
sharing with some

unfortunate giving it
the rant and rave
about some misgivings
in her Glasgow tone

Billy raising his eyes
in disbelief
and you wondering
if ever she silenced

her tongue and tone
and charmed her
fearsome stare
whether you’d be happy there

lying beside her
kissing her neck
or lips or cheek
or nestling between

her small plump ****
but looking beside you
as the mini bus
moved off at a pace

you saw her sour face glare
at the American’s head
and thought you’d rather kiss
the old Polish mother instead.

Impish foam that rests
on the brim of a thing delicious
to fade away in one gentle swipe
of an invisible tide.
The crusty bits that sweeten
a bitter concoction
drown under the burden
of a dark swirling mesh
but remain a heady delight.
Stirred within a diameter
is trouble with joy
and laughter unrestrained.

Sipping a hot mug of coffee incites
thoughts, that vagaries of life
and coffee, are perchance,
the same.