So that’s his game! The old man sat there with a brick for a phone pressed to his hairy ear. He squinted, strained to hear whoever he talked with, mouthed spittle-infused words. Oh, he was good. Really good. But it was an obvious ruse. He turned and gave me that glassy-eyed look only the elderly […]
She was that age, that ageless something Between rose petal cheeks and silver waves of fascination Where the foundations moved but the plans never changed Where her eyes only ever shone brighter, more acutely than before Piercing like twin stars set in her own personal heaven A girl with a woman’s knowing, woman with a […]
Broken whistle: I need a pea.
Beneath crayola skies, we lingered, Watching little butterflies flit between branches, Laughing at the starlings as they caused kerfuffles That only they knew And only they could end. This place of colour, light and creation, Unsullied by adolescent snobbery And adult ignorance, bewitched us. When did we lose it? When did we lose us? We […]
We always said we'd be there to catch each other. You do when you're young and in love. We were so convinced, so sure of our commitment that when we fell, it came as a genuine shock. Well, maybe less so for me. I had my hands behind my back.
There’s a coffee steaming on the table. I hate drinking alone, but you’ve got to do something to stay warm. Curlicues of dispersed heat rise like ghosts departing the dawn; I’m sure one winks. Another day begins with a slurp and a cough. This is my mantra. I’m crying again.
Every elephant carried a suitcase tucked neatly under its tusks. Marching down the high street in one long line, the elephants bowed to each passer by in turn, then wandered out of town. “Where are they going?” said the adults as one. “Who packed their trunks?” laughed all the children.
￼ Time cascades Where once it streamed Life pouring over the precipice In torrents of me A most magical tumbling If one accepts it Of liquid and light A return to the womb Cocooned in a separate reality This curtain of creation falls Upon a rock-strewn stage There is no avoiding it I await the […]
She said she was seventeen. She looked her given age, her clothing fashionable, worn with a hint of disdain, her figure slim and supple. It was her that eyes gave her away. They knew too much. I pitied her then, and she saw it. I regret it to this day.
“I like my vacuum cleaners to look like vacuum cleaners not airships, or oxygen masks, or lilac lawnmowers, or frisbees! Bleedin’ disgraceful!” “It’s called progress, Granddad. Stop moaning.” “Pfft! It’s called change for change’s sake.” “What would you rather have, a fancy vacuum, or dirt?” “A housemaid.” That’s my Granddad.