Sleeping Boys
The boys sleep. A dust of snores. One wrapped in a tiger skin
the other by sheets. Fans rhythmic bass. Sipping a blackcurrant lemsip,
my voice needs soothing, awaiting sunrise. Then breakfast and beach
to watch his delight at making Warwick
Inflatable
How would I know that Superdino means a supermarket? Dino is a dinosaur. Spar I understand. Yes, the fight and yes, the shop. Groceries here, including deli delights that are not around in our village at home.I promised a blow up row boat and a promise is a promise. Not one here amongst the wet fish and water melon. Try the sea front. Too much choice and impossible to compare the prices. Buy COMANARD from a Scot with good English. Bought it and extra air for euros. It is a good buy for a good boy. He doesn’t want it in the water. It is a hiding place. It is a tortoise shell. It is a bed.
He curls up night tight. Feigning a sound sleeping.
Here?
When did you get in there? What time was it? ‘I love my new bed.’
‘Yes, but when did you creep from under the duvet, down the step ladder from its high place, across your space station and around the landing and to our
brass bed into your special gap between us?’ The gap that is Switzerland.
‘When did you get in here?’ ‘What time was it?’
At the Lively Meeting
At the lively meeting we are all different, but the same. We cannot understand
how we have been left these children to look after. That there is no one in the line in front of us.
You keep parental rights with neglect and abuse.
We just negotiate your access through a pussy foot path, trying to avoid the fog of manipulation.
How are we the best to raise them up to adulthood, now we are old and grey?
We need drugs, but
prescribed rather than street. Street? Well, that’s an idea,
but beyond me after the grey ghost making a heroin call, Brighton ’61. So take the tablets,
get out that hair dye or bleach it blonde. Pubic? No, head, silly.
Pubes disappear, re-appearing on your chin over 60. Don’t relax into crimplene.
Don’t be reduced to beige trews.
In fact, spurn taupe, ecru, brownness, except as a hair colour.
Chestnut rather than mouse. Remember. Try and remember… Vidal Sassoon…
Don’t disguise gnarled feet with flesh coloured pop socks - who’s flesh? Don’t don those curled up snap-on daps with velcro.
Go for citrus shocks and fuchsia trainers. Damn the expense.
My Hyundai remembers in Ferrari red. We need to think ourselves young. Younger.
I need lipstick…
Five Drip Drops
The wooden drawer has lost its heart handle. Coarse string alone allows the pull.
Breakfast and medication time. We rattle with our cocktail. But five drip drops A, C and D for him.
Naughty Step
Great Flea has been naughty so has to sit one minute for each year on the naughty step. She can leave after a blissful hour. I have an extra 4 minutes.
This Arm, This Foot
This arm is Mum’s.
Crinkled, freckles merge with age spots. Good skin to keep it all in.
This foot is Dad’s. Except for the varnish dried blood red and dumpy. Phone call
about a chair being thrown across a classroom.
It happened yesterday avoiding her and the baby sleeping inside her.
It happened to me, just me.
I remembered.
Turning into the past. We are history:
in experience and in our bodies. This arm is Mum’s. This foot is Dad’s.
I’ve Pinched A Banana
I’ve pinched a banana. There are several.
I’m not stealing from him taking away the possibility of a
Nanny milkshake with cocoa to disguise the fruit and it’s hit of potassium that will be good for him. I’ve pinched a banana.
It tastes claggy, Skin blotched.
Skin blotchy like mine… old age spot, liver spot, the senile freckle.
It says a blemish on the skin associated with aging.
Solar lentigo - sounds like a game for pensioners as they sit poolside in Malaga.
Lentigo senilis - sounds like a game played by pensioners as they tip into that pool for the last time.
I’ve pinched a banana. We match.
After Alan
After Alan, we have to believe that we will croak and maybe sometime soon.
Sooner or later.
Not soon as in tomorrow probably.
Not soon as in next week possibly.
Not soon as in next month hopelessly.
Not as in next year, hopefully.
but we are reaching that final valley where we will
croak. So we need to put our house in order.
So we need to put our house in order now. So we need to put our house in order while there is still time.
Clear out the roof space we call the attic and the shed, but
there is also an awful lot of shit that lurks everywhere.
I still have car insurance papers on a car I can’t remember.
Did we really go on holiday there? I have the boarding passes.
This is piddling.
Stuff is piddling.
It’s the carving up.
Flapjacks
In our fast quick time we are aware of death
-
we cannot commit to it. It mustn’t happen.What happens to small fry if we jump off to a heaven we don’t believe in?
What happens to small fry if we just jump off? No matter what our outcome,
the ash won’t make him flapjacks for his packed lunch. Flapjacks with nuts for home.
Flapjacks without nuts for school. Flapjacks.
No two alike, but cast with care.
We Are Home
You are my home, you two. You are my home.
The space we share, we are home.
We are home.
You are my home, Small Fry. You are my home.
You are my home, Big Fish. You are my home.
I am your home, the Limpet. Your limpet.
I am your home. The space we share, we are home.
We are home.
You are my home, you two. You are my home.
We are home