Same Trousers

November 22, 2010

The man with the same trousers as me
Doesn’t know
That he’s wearing the same trousers as me
Because I’m sitting down
But he’s wearing the same trousers as me
And if I stand up he’ll see
That he’s wearing the same trousers as me
And it will be embarrassing.

The man with the same trousers as me
Wears them well
The same trousers as me
And he’s having fun
Wearing the same trousers as me
And I don’t think he’d care
That he’s wearing the same trousers as me
Not as much as I do.

The man with the same trousers as me
Is more popular than I would be
If I wore the same trousers as he
So I’ll go
Wearing the same trousers as he
Slip away unseen
Wearing the same trousers as he
And tomorrow I’ll give them away
To the local branch, of the YMCA.

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Winter

November 21, 2010

The coming of winter’s mist draws a fire line
Between the cold night and the heat of a room.
And her foggy arrival makes me thankful
For warm-hearted friends to thaw the frosting
With dandelion memories of summer,
Freed from the frozen rivers, where they lay
Unmoved and unremembered until today.

It is this most elemental season –
As pillaging fires wage bloodless war
Upon towns of ever-innocent snow –
That does stir my spirit to new actions
And drops my thoughts down from deathly trees
To the decaying leaf ground far below
Where, as summer seeds they do root and grow.

For winter is but the promise of spring;
A savouring time for thoughts to be breathed
And take form in the damp and icy air.
For dreams forged in a summer’s furnace
To be practised and steeled for the fight
That will come with the snow’s sudden melting,
When the world for battle comes returning.

So come take my hand through a winter’s dream,
Kicking leaves and mudding up our boots,
Winding our way slow through the icy wood
And the crackling pools which promise so much
As the sun slips away between the trees,
Leaving shadows which whispering do say
That cold as the night, is the warm of the day.

Stare

November 19, 2010

I look at her and I see…I just…see everything. All of it. I hear every moment of the most fleeting conversation; I feel the faintest pressure from the lightest of touches; and I see a past that I’m sure once was, but which I know never existed. I see every strand of hair falling in and out of place. I see her teeth, and I see the tiny bit of food stuck in her teeth. I see her hands, which she tells me are not model’s hands, but all I see are beautiful, perfect, untouchable hands; hands that I wish would just reach out for me. I see her legs, which I’d hoped to see – because I think she has beautiful legs – but which she usually keeps covered. And I see her stroke them absent-mindedly, and I see that my mind is missing too, for all I can see now is her face, and I can see what she’s thinking but not what she’s saying and all I am really aware of is a desire; a desire to tear her carefully, ever-so carefully, from this world and paste her into a scrap-book land, where everything combines in a perfect collage, madness as it truly should be. A land where I see her every day, and see her smile and keep it just for me, and see her never grow old and see the photographs we’ve not taken and all the places we’re going and the lights and the stars and the whole world aligned for us and us alone. Alone. Alone is the one thing we are not. Tonight we are not alone. For he is here. And my gaze is paralysed. And the memories I had imagined become dry and slip from between the pages, lost.

Metal Detector Man

November 19, 2010

Metal Detector Man
Tell me what did you find
In the black river sand
Where you spend your time?

Metal Detector Man
When the water is low
For the cold in your hand
What have you to show?

Metal Detector Man
Is it fortune you want
Is that your sorry plan?
For I hate to be blunt…

But Metal Detector Man
I’m sure there’s better ways
Better places to stand
And to spend your precious days.

Timing

November 19, 2010

The time between the bus stop
And my front door
Is two minutes and fourteen seconds
Exactly
I didn’t have to count it
That’s how long the song lasted.

And the time from the front door
To my bedroom
Is longer than it was this morning
Strangely
Though the steps haven’t changed
And the rooms remain the same.

And the time it takes to say
I don’t love you anymore
Is the same as it takes a tear to fall
Precisely
Because as you were telling me
I counted each one to distract me.

Tube

November 19, 2010

They kissed. On the cheek but with lips a little too close, and she stood up, waiting at the door. And as the train slowed he watched her, taking in all he could. A final farewell, a keep-in-touch and a see-you-soon and she was gone. As the train pulled away he pulled his headphones from his pocket, held them in his hands, and as she faded he waited; allowed himself a final moment of floating in her wake, letting her echo gently rock him for a few more seconds before lifting the music to his ears and letting it carry him off, down the dark and tunnelled tracks.

All I Would Need

November 16, 2010

Shakespeare for the reading
Dylan in my ears
And your eyes of blue
Would see me through
An endless stream of years.