From the damp dark recesses
Of cloistered bookshops
Into the blinking glare
And thronging crowds,
We are all unfocused
And unrecognised except
For our reflections
In shop windows.

Down newly cobbled streets
Walking at your speed now
Whistle, guitar and violin
Offer original renditions
To down and outs and drunks
Who dance where they slept
But quickly if you want
To hear some real music
For the Incas are in town.

Wheelchairs and children
Are politely ushered to the front
Gathering around
Standing next to me;
Until the shouting and screaming starts
His shots indiscriminate
Knocking me over.

If it had been a full moon
We might have made it
Would have been easier
To stay on the path
Easier to avoid the clouds
Trying to sweep us up.
Wind and rain don't help
The horses are tired
Jittery too
I tell them they are only
Eyes in the trees
They can't hurt you.
The old barn is as good
A place as any,
I'm sorry I can't get you home before morning,
You tell me I haven't let you down
Sometimes all that is left to do
Is to take shelter.

It was a day made for drying
And for sailing away.
A balmy intoxicating breeze
Swept in off the sea
Turning the heads of old sailors
And taking the sails of towels
Which billowed, swayed and pulsed
And mesmerized by the tribal rhythm
Danced themselves into a frenzy
Of desire and passion.
So I hung out the rest of the washing
You left draped about
In your hurry to leave
And sailed after you.

Reaching the island I lay low until nightfall
Then climbed to the cliff top
Where I found you unguarded
But still bound by the ropes
That must have stopped you embracing me.
So I cut them and led you down
Through the moonlight and stars and spray
A silent getaway, I had hoped for
But you called out for help
To the pirate who had captured your heart -
Just as he did on the last wash day.

When there is a lull in the fighting
And the dead have been buried
And the cries of the wounded have died down
The survivors rush off to the hairdressers.

It has always been this way
And always will,
History demands it.
Weak minded, downtrodden, ungrateful
Foolish slaves and peasants
We are all that and more
To our emotions.
But while enough strength remains
To raise a hand
We will fight back
Even at the risk of losing everything
The little we have
We will fight back - we must
For no-one should stand
In another's shadow.

Washed up on the beach
By the tide that consumed us both
Alive, barely
But I cannot revive her love
I will never see through her eyes again
Or hear her speak my name
It is up to another now
To carry her to dry ground.

So I will walk away
And keep walking
And not worry that I can't feel the sand
Or hear the waves
And I will not look round
Even though I am desperate
To run back
And hug her
And shake his hand.

From the moment we are born
The lottery begins.
We are all given a set number,
Of days that is
And we never know
When ours is up,
Luckily.