I want to snore
softly into the pillow
toss and turn a few times
wrapping myself tightly with my arms

I want to snuggle
under the weight of the blanket
sheltered from the cold rain
beating the streets outside

I don't want to have that peeing dream
filled with relief, warmth and regret
Neither do I want to share the bed
with anyone
not today, not this time.

I prefer to be stuck in the dream
where the twins are constantly giggling,
and running after each other,
their big sister, having her hair undone by her mum.
And I, looking in from the doorway
always present in their daily lives.

In one of the pictures, the teacher sent
your downcast face mirrored the day
of the school trip
Your mother said it is because
of the cold you came down with

In your little hands
was a fluffy grey rabbit
looking lifeless, perhaps
afraid of the courage you had
to hold another creature
even though you do not
yet understand the world

Your sister, right beside you
with her typical frown
holds an identical rabbit
representing the paradox
of what the two of you are to each other

When three and a half years ago
I watched, with masked emotions
both of you laying in separate
transparent plastic capsules
trying to make sense of the new world
you had been brought into
the lines and numbers on the screen
the only signs that you will make it

And here you are, in another picture
this time the little fish pond reflects
your smile and that of the other kids
peering over the wall into its shallow depth
each of their innocent faces an untold story
of the anguish and joy
of bringing another human being
into the world.

He looks in the mirror
He sees himself
Young, driven and about the make
the same mistakes again
I look back at him, feeling
young, driven and wiser

Each attempt to right the wrongs
of the past
to live a second life through me
is like one rock striking another
until one day
age finally numbs the sparks
and the reflections in the glass
turn to one of understanding

When I am older
I want to look in the mirror
at my son, proud at the
refined version that he is
knowing that I did not tell him
how to live his life

Just to add to what John said
with regards to the points
raised by Emily when she echoed
the arguments presented earlier
by Kevin

Without overlooking
the guidance that was reiterated
by the Deputy Director
about the need
for swift action from us

I propose we form a committee
composed of people in this meeting
who will meet later
to put the issue on the table

cut it open with a scalpel
expose the underlying problems
analyze and put it back with nine stitches
then we can report
that the first draft
is ready

It didn't start off with a white cake
carrying forty-something candles
Rather, it was the chimes of the phone alarm
later, a cold run through the foggy streets
then back home to nurse the joint pains

The phone buzzed with messages
first from the wife, then my best friend,
then my brother, to whom I got to respond
"and the same to you too"
then my ghost friend, who only sends a message
on this day, each year
before vanishing out of my life

I'm home today, having a party of sorts
with the twin monitors
and the tailless mouse
At least they look dressed up for the occasion
sitting on the workstation
in their black soft-plastic jackets
They don't dance or sing or even mumble anything
They only look down at my fingers
going back and forth
around the letters of the alphabet
as I go to work while sitting at home

At this age, I muse to myself
some people don't want to remember
how they have moved closer
in the journey towards
forgetting one's name, family
and eventually how to eat

And almost imperceptibly
we have become the dad, or mum
or auntie that we looked up to
or held under the magnifying glass
and judged for their decisions on our lives

But now I'm only trying
to live in the moment
as I pour a bit of whiskey
swirl it around gently in the glass,
watching if it shows
within its brown circular current
the regrets of the past
or the shrouded future
and hopefully, the number of my age

Last night, talking to the guy
I was trying to get to know
while the waitresses were clearing up the tables
I wondered how it would feel to go into the Nile

I would sneak out after lunch,
fire up the old Cherokee, roll down the windows,
let the wind hastily brush my cheeks
and when it catches my hair and pulls it back,
I'll pretend I'm in a bright red convertible.

I would go through the windy roads with the faded signs
Meander through some unknown streets until I get lost
then make my way back through the bridge
that is held in the air by its concrete legs
until I reach the hotel by the river Nile.

At last by the Nile, sitting at the edge of the deck,
I would observe how the river
dances lightly with the wind
swirling left, then to the right,
carrying the tiny slender insects
on a journey where they really go nowhere

I would imagine, first dipping
my right foot into the water,
watching, as my red coloured toes,
drown below the surface,
until my copper and silver anklets
are fully submerged.
Then my left foot will follow

I would close my eyes and feel my soul
slowly leak from my heart, down
through my legs and now shrivelled toes
and finally into the river.
Where it would spread out
in tiny advancing interwoven links
until it becomes one with the heart of the Nile

In the heart of the Nile I would be able to feel
the gentle breeze brushing the surface of the river,
the silent walks of the white egrets foraging for food
and the gentle sway of the boats
as they rock the fishermen to sleep
at the edge of the river.

But his voice brings me back to the present
where the wind has begun to blow cold.
His warm voice and wry smile,
along with the two shots of dry Tequila,
have awakened tingling thoughts in my head.
And I wonder, how it would feel
to show him my shiny waist beads.

What great pleasure it is
to not have to figure out
if the tuna sandwich is a boy or girl
before it becomes a part of me.

I don't have to wonder
if the tasty adjectives I'm going to use
to glorify it will need to multiply
or even worse, change sexuality,
if I decide to have more than one

This afternoon, I'm trying to find
the appropriate tense to describe
how the wind whistled
over the empty plastic cup last night,
startling the old dog
and setting the cat's ears twitching
But then I remember, I don't even know
the word for "whistle" in French

But I wish someone were here
to bring good tidings to my appetite
and perhaps bid my footsteps well
when I get up to take the 10 minute walk
back to the house
where the smell of freshly baked croissants
have soaked into the walls

At least I know they're filled with yellow cheese
and this time I remember
one of the first words I learned
in this intricate language I'm wrestling
is fromage.