I don’t suppose
you remember
that day one December
when I scored a hat-trick
in the mouthwash-smeared hall
and thought I was Messi
for a couple of seconds

or when we went to the Tate
in about year eight
for a rare school-trip
with a gang of teachers
and we gawped at the art
like the cat next door
stalking a bird

or when my Dad said
that my uncle had expired
and I was on stage one night
with Joe’s coat of many colours
and wet veins on my face
for some reason
I didn’t get

I love the closed system of rain
How much time it takes a drop to get here
A million or more years old
A water molecule evaporated up from the Atlantic
Rained down in Egypt thousands of years ago
Running with the Nile
Washing the sweat off of slaves who built pyramids
Then south to Ethiopia
Later to come up in a village well
Where someone used it to water a barley plant
Evaporating again to be swept up by a front
That poured on Bangkok
Before running off into the South China Sea
Wobbling along the Tropic of Cancer
Over to the North Pacific
Following the northeast trade winds
Then back again to the Atlantic
Rising only to fall and land
Smack dab between the ears of
My sweet mutt Daisy

r~ 22Jan14

How do I look in this dress?
Walt’s wife asked him as she
Did a twirl in the bedroom.
Yeah, fine, Walt slowly replied.

But you’re not even looking at
Me, she said. Walt turned his
Head from the small TV screen
And gazed at her. Yeah, you look

Fine. It’s not too short is it? She
Asked. No, not too short, Walt
Said, his eyes looking at the TV
Screen once more as the ballgame

Hotted up. How about my ***,
Does it look ok? Sure, said Walt.
Sure, what? She asked, my ***
Is too big in this? Is that what

You’re saying? Yeah, Walt replied,
His eyes focusing on the pass of
Ball. How can you be so insensitive.
Why you’re not even looking at me.

DOES MY *** LOOK BIG IN THIS?
She bellowed. Walt turned around
And at stared at his wife sticking out
Her ***. No, no, he said, just right

Honey, the best *** I’ve seen today.
What other *** have you seen today,
Then? She said. Walt sighed, he’d
Missed a good hit. What do you

Want to know now? Walt asked.
Whose *** you seen today? She said.
I haven’t seen any ***, Walt replied.
He studied his wife as she twirled

Again. That’s a bit short isn’t it, Walt
Said, and a bit tight. Makes your ***
Look like two piglets under canvas
Fighting to get out. A hairbrush flew

Across the room missing Walt’s head
As his wife stormed into the bathroom
And slammed the door. That’s ok Honey,
That’s what we ******* husband’s are for.

His wife said, you’re too
Nice to people, too

**** nice, you ought to
Be like Rocky; he

Don’t take no **** from
People, he tells them

Where to get off and
Is down their throats far

Quicker than they can
Say, boo boo, but you,

You’re just too nice, you
Even open doors

For dames and give them
The big friendly smile,

And give them the bright
Eyed sparkle. He let

His wife’s words float on
By like butterflies,

Focussed on the art,
His word management,

Giving form to his
Notions, painting out

Scenes, putting plots to
New ideas, and for

Another thing, his
Wife added, what’s with

The dame in the ****
Photos everywhere?

Who’s she? In the frame
By the bed, on your

Cell phone, tucked away
In your pocket book?

Are you some kind of
Religious fruit? He

Looked at his wife (she
Was a looker, had

A nice face and cute
***) and watched her mouth

Move, saw her tongue, like
Some small snake go in

And out and how fine
Her eyes were in the

Morning sun, how they
Shone some, and he said,

You know, your mouth moves
Quite prettily, your

Lips, they’re like parting
Thighs and how I just

Love the way your head
Tilts slightly to one

Side just like some odd
Inquisitive bird,

And by the way, the
Dame in the photos

Is St Therese, and
She’s just there to bring

Me comfort and to
Remind me how pure

And heaven sent a
Woman can be and

That there is more to
Women than meets the

Eye, but his wife stood
And shook her head, and

Not another word
By his wife was said.