FIRST MEETING
A boat hit amidships
as a force majeure announces itself
and the small, light vessel, without cargo
lists and begins to sink slowly in;
below deck the seeing rushes in
flooding all compartments,
the engine stops unable
to function at this time:
above deck, all is still in order,
the lifeboats are counted,
released and filled with memories,
the drill is followed rationally
so some part of its complement
can return and salvage the experience
for the wonderment of heartfelt analysis.
A nuisance by invitation I came with ears pre-wired
for background noise to mask any overheard intimacies
Yet, by your single day of the week enthusiasm for idle chatter
asked me some small thing that may have given an impression of inquiry
Opening such a craic to allow your freshness to waft out
you inadvertently ensnared this social rodent:
before I knew it I was gnawing at conversational sustenance,
gobbling up the crumbs dripping from barely closed jaws,
making an animalistic exhibition of myself:
thus is my thinly-veiled appetite.
You make the most of it, this mild annoyance, taking it in your graceful stride, laughing about it, eventually; even feeding it sometimes, for entertainment’s sake.
LAST MEETING
Memory reaches beyond closed gates
commingling cursory flashes at beautiful fates
your table replete with bread rolls
mine stocked with mirrors reflecting holes
There were real times when through words
a corporate copse bristled with songs of birds
but snapping rules and measures sent them away
a once living five hours are now a dead day
spent passing a lovely park content in listening
to your voice, your mind; your smile glistening
inadvertently mocking, with veracity of beauty,
childish dreams, juvenile desires, entombed in duty
you need no more japes, no more trivialities
needing only to return to well-chosen festivities
NOT EVEN CLOSE
Still. Looking at heart level
for a sign to anywhere
indicating something to stop
this nothingness gnawing
away at my flesh.
To love as I profess to live
here, nowhere, reading headline
laughter, knowing not even
a punchline, trying to retain some
dignity in scratching through
your archives finding only
performance flyers, my name
third on the bill.
Proximity can be
a cruelly ignorant arbiter.
MEMORIES
No more than praising the shining sun
or the rain laughing at our vulnerability,
I, in innocence or egotism,
cup my hands and watch
how the small palm puddle evaporates
by some universal law,
there’s an earnest joy in
the accident of not taking it personally.
You are a cause and effect
of life’s value, at once immense
and minute, a grain of sand
like no other.
I wait, as quiet as winter snow
for the guilt of my shadow
to disappear, then merge
in sumptuous colours of love
and vital shades of doubt,
whilst your energies crackle
under a surface,
your voice of eloquent leaves
and autumn downpours
advise me of my foolishness
naturally, without rancour
drawing me to hear the song
of yourself as real and beautiful
as you’ve always been,
unseen in a miasma of hope
that blindly yearned and deafly whined
penned in obverse isolation
too close to a painting
with outstretched fingers
needing to touch rapture, once, more.