THE UNBEARABLE SHEERNESS OF BEING… IN QUEENBOROUGH

You have to laugh…

At early doors in April shine a solitary drinker, I

Hit that point of singular clarity that makes glass

Of the mysteries of the lives of others bizzing as bees

About my squinting sight and quizzing ears

Made sensible by Yorkshire jug and London beer

This drowsy world spins on this axis

Of the grail I chose from countless others

Sat amidst last night’s fag butts

Time bends and turns irrelevant

All things are existing simultaneously

Outside normal parameters

And it’s all laid out for me

I drift, I drift

I am home

This house has dropped

An aitch for me

And I have remembered myself

Up to my neck in my own waters

I have found the ‘ouse at home

Afternoon sax steaming from

Old windows that have had

Their fill of sunshine

Danny Boy and Tom Hark

Serenade borough boulevardiers

Sunning their ladies

In their own sweet ways

Lindy Lou hauled by the hair

Down the cobbles

In a retro display

Of public affection

All the while Brenda

Basks on the shore

Sensuous in full sail

Smoothed tenderly

By her mate.

Blooming at such intimacies

And afternoon delights

I spin away from the pole

The water I skip on

Stone clear to me now

Where the world ends

Nikki schools her pupil

A lesson in her own lunchtime

Hands clasped and plated

On the edge with all behind

Poised to test the waters of

The world awaiting them.

They pause unseen

To shot glass eyes

The late long lunchers

‘Ousing by their mirrors

Signalling the manoeuvres

Of royal appointed

Tree anointed

Official pushers

Rehearsing their stories

As they crabwalk careful

Through the rusted iron gates

And I am late

And sunburned

And soulwarmed

I am leaving the borough

To trespass offshore

Riding the gentle swell

Of borrowed nostalgia

Into the arms of Roxy