Hello you say as
you saunter through my door  to
flop onto the couch and
fluster me with a lazy grin.
got any food?

I am elbow deep in a bag of nachos
why?I ask suspiciously
and you smile wider.
Because I'm hungry, you say
and
kind of fried.

Of course you are
and you
laugh and grab the bag
your fingers brush mine amongst the
crinkly chips and
the artificial cheese dusting.

Who, you ask later between
crunches, is hotter. Gerard Butler or
Johnny Depp?
I nibble a chip in
consideration distracted
by your arm sneaking
around my waist.

It is obviously
Gerard I say because of
reasons I forget when you
start to kiss me.

The nachos suddenly lose
importance because
you taste like
smoke, cheese
and a friday afternoon.

I am too hung over for dairy
you said
our ice cream dripped and
dribbled onto the hot chrome
and the sun was blinding me
and i was listening
to the little boy telling
his Dad about rugby
and looking at your freckles
and thinking you have nice hands.

We walked back to my house
and sat on the jesus rug
under the stolen shade of
my neighbours tree
talking about nothing and
squinting at each other because
the sun was bright until
you fell asleep sprawled on my grass.

Then mum came home and
you woke up to say hello and
she asked you about work
and you told her about how
you are a little sick of the timber yard
but it's alright.

Mum went to make a
cup of tea so you
and i walked out the front
my feet were bare on
the hot concrete and
we said good bye and
i could see that twist
in your grin
and i hugged you
so i wouldn't see it anymore.

Sometimes when i dont sleep
i imagine the day
in the yard and your
hands and that grin
and where it would have lead
if i hadn't looked away.

I remember what it was like
to use you as a wind break
standing on the pier at Brighton.

But I don't need you anymore
because I bought myself
a really good raincoat.

Hiya what can i get you?
fingers tap on the polished wood
of the bar they sit in front of
Their faces sag
like the coats they shrug off
lowering their old bones into chairs

two jamesons please
gentlemen hands fumble for wallets
for money
for the sweetheart
easing an old mans' troubles
with ice and a measure of whiskey
behind the bar

that's nine dollars twenty
thankyou my darling
a crisp new note in a weathered old hand
thats an old hand at weathering life
you're welcome

into the whiskey they sigh
away an old man's aches
I polish the glasses
while they polish
their glasses
and polish off
glasses
of whiskey.

Through the house
smoke is drifting
You're a ****!
No you're a ****!
cheerful exclamations mingling with the smell of salsa and the clink of beers.

Schizophrenic,
the way we love.
your love and my love bind my hands,
a straightjacket ,inside rage is trapped,
a pent up swirling vortex futile against tender restraints.

Yours is the voice in my ear,
at war with the angry noise in my head.
‘Love’ you whisper across the space and dark between us,
reassuring the buzz and hum of desperate uncertainty.

Your hand slips into mine, rescue in torrid waters
Anger surrenders, too tired to howl and rage.
‘Love’ I breathe back, and the noise becomes distant

You set me alight from the inside
the fire warmed my bones.
and you eased yourself under my skin
you and happiness,
to hold me closer.

Oh the fragility of happiness.
Tall we stood arm in arm
I was impervious,unbreakable
fire burning under my paper thin skin.
you choked the flames, lost sight in black smoke.

happiness and I crumpled together like paper,
little dolls in the wind.