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Insect-like we squash our lives
Into a few summer seconds.
We flit, we swarm, we hop
From a branch, a stem
To a prettier flower
Where we drink the nectar
Or drown in it.
The ******* cat
Plays with us
Tears off our wings
Spits us out
And just before we die
We dream of flying
Into a naked light.
What kind of seed
So tentatively planted
And needing neither
Water nor light
Only the dark secret
Warmth of you?
How I spark,
How I come to life
In you.
She drives down to a room
On Rainbow Hill
And sits in the car staring
At raindrops on the windscreen
Which look like tiny
Planets in the darkness,
And she feels like an astronaut
Weightless, about to take her first
Moon walk, then realising
She had gone to the wrong moon.

Then she goes inside
Climbs the bright green stair carpet
Up to door number two
And is surprised when her key fits
But not that it is cold and dark
And stale from the cigarettes downstairs.

And she rolls a sleeping bag
And some blankets on the floor
And blocks up the fireplace
With a blue flowery eiderdown
To give the spiders something
To think about, and she takes
Her toothbrush and soap
Into the bathroom
And drops the towel on the floor
And trips over it in her muddy shoes.

Then she gets undressed and finds
A place for her clothes,
On a chair in the corner
And turns out the light and stands
At the window as if they might
Walk past, and she's checking that
They will never find her here.

Then she lies awake wondering
When the street light goes out
Just as it does, and more people
Coming up from the takeaway
And she listens not realising
She is listening for her name.
And then the wind and rain,
And a train coming straight towards her
Then veering off
At the last moment.
to
A small boy was flying his kite
With his parents.
I watched the simple family
Moments which make up
A childhood
Then left to wander
Around the park.
On my way back
I noticed them looking up,
Helplessly I thought
As the kite must have
Broken it's string
And was probably
Disappearing from sight
Forever. But no,
It was only lodged
Like a memory,
In a tree.
He doesn't deserve a big send off
I'll leave him under
The seat on a bus
At the station newspaper stand
Or better still, a phone booth
At the airport,
Somewhere busy, anywhere
There a lot of comings
And goings
So he can't follow me
Into the sea of bobbing heads.
And I won't look back
Will forget I lost him
Until I check my pockets
Or case when I arrive
Almost as an afterthought
As if I had never
Carried him around
My whole life.
Goodbye fear for good.
I didn't run anyone over today
I didn't ****** anyone
Or rob any little old ladies
Or steal from the church coffers
I didn't judge or criticise
Or expect too much
Of anyone
I didn't stop caring
Or hoping or praying
And I didn't stop
Loving anyone today
So maybe that is it.
After a lifetime
Of underachievement -
Vindication.
It's what we don't do,
Don't say
That defines us.
Those bright clear happy moments
Are the best
Before we fall
Into each other's arms
And our only problems
Are the clothes we shed
And place together
On the chair
In the dark room.
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