Archive for September 2015

Man Cave

Like everything dumb,
overuse ruins any fun worth running tickets for.
I stayed in the sun too long playing cricket with no one, once,
followed crumbs back to the club house
and sat with the drinks next to the drinkers,
climbed down from four under par wicket keepers and laid in their innards until Solo came and cut me out, 
pushed me into the car park
scored by shouts from the bleacher set girls to shut up,
we can’t hear each other fingering ourselves to cassette tapes of how it's really meant to be done,
you dumb set of eight digits, one thumb leftover from risking it on Everest,
do you not read the advice columns on how to advise your significant others to carry on regardless of this phone call?

I confess, officer,
I’ve been drinking,
so keep me calm until the coroner agrees that you did this, messed with the wrong guy,
lawfully inclined not to whisper a word cos you needed a raise:
targets to hit mean free Target gift cards and I’m one way for you to get that new pool table baize
and bar for your club room.

under the bridge from the sun

for those caught in the mess outside Mina.

I awoke to a hundred dead bodies on my bedroom floor
dined alone with six hundred more
and came home to a headline that whispered how many bedsheets had been used to hide the ground they now sleep upon. 

To comprehend scale would be to settle on a figure I’m accustomed to,
but homework never covered these topics,
answers never printed,
they couldn’t be copied.
So I learn from the second minute after my alarm through to troubled sleep at the end of the tunnel, and I will dream of that son above his father under the bridge from the sun and hope his goodbyes are heard by someone who can help.