Town’s End?

Riverboat gambler coated,

Thin collar fashionably raised,

The familiar windmill

Spins on blue suede pegs.

I wonder, now, why I never saw

The harsh self-doubt, the

Harshest of self mockery,

The dumb recognition of happenstance

In those flamenco matador poses.

Copper lady, right hand filled

With righteous liberty

As the terrible truth, vulnerability and blame

Crash down again; over

Iconic, decibel-lit harbourscape.

The way it actually is and the other way,

Held in memory, of how it was before.

So much to be proud of.

The air stands still,

The big voice calls on and on.

You? You think too much, preoccupied:

“Who will I be seeing this evening?”

I’m more intrigued by

Who I’m going to be.





Those Japanese Days.

Tried to stay in touch,

But you split, changed,

Were too far away –

Never making it easy,

Never pretending to care –

Tried to let you know,

But you were too

Far away too cool,

Trying to be fashionable;

Or modishly not.

Tried to catch you

When you came back

But couldn’t get close,

Couldn’t cross the ether divide.

But I never stopped caring

… and I confess, my heart is

Hammering like a just-trapped

Bird in  a cage.

You will be here ?


Right !

Here !

And I’m as nervous

As I ever was back

In those Japanese days.