Deceit

when the skin is touched
a line is crossed; it was crossed
before you reached out

Two Poems: Serious and Mantra In A Leeds Accent

Serious

the ticket is bought
depart Heathrow; no return
it's cheaper this way


Mantra In A Leeds Accent

Vodka and orange.
Tall glass.
Ena pago.
Kalamaki.
Sip it slow.
Chase me.
Catch me.
See what I do.

(Glossary: Ena pago - one ice cube.
                  Kalamaki - a straw)

A Wee Fiction - Aliens

The blog's called Wee Fictions, so here's another one. First published on McStorytellers.

Because we're all ffffforeign.

The Aliens Police Office was in the red light district. The building looked derelict. The paint was peeling off the facade, and there was a huge chunk of brickwork missing at the entrance, as if it had been rammed by a truck. According to the sign, the lift was big enough for six adults, but it was usually stuck somewhere. This was why the stairs were so crammed with people coming and going. All of them, like me, were foreigners.

To read the whole story, follow this link to the McStorytellers site:

http://mcstorytellers.weebly.com/aliens.html

Fuck Buddies

We are married.












Not to each other,
of course.

Car Parks

A married man
who arranges to meet
a married woman
in a hotel car park
an hour's drive
from home
isn't going there
to talk about
car parks

never mind
marriage.

Mistaken

pang of jealousy
false alarm; it's not her man
the feeling was real

Tone Arm

The Weeping Song. The last song of the night. Time to go home. Home. Time to go. The record spins on the turntable. Focus. The only light is the light on the end of the tone arm, illuminating a minute circle of bobbing vinyl. This is the Weeping Song. He raises his glass. He looks at it closely. He examines it. Maybe it holds some kind of secret. Perhaps an answer to a question he hasn’t thought of. The contents are emerald, precious, glinting in that tiny light, the only light in the bar, the only light in the world.

How It Starts

Our mouths in congress
serpent tongue devouring me
from the inside out

Mike's Wedding

Chas was the best man.
At the reception
he asked the band to play
I Knew The Bride
When She Used To Rock And Roll.

He got punched.

It was that time of night.

O

He's there most nights.
A thousand miles
from the place they call 'home'.
(The meaning is changing -
it's a process he's working on)
His seat at the window.
The small glass:
he watches an ice cube
turn milky in alcohol.
The pouch of tobacco.
The piece of paper
and the pen.

Though far from inert,
he never reacts.
Not even when voices are raised
and fists pound on tables.

They don't annoy him.
They know he's in his element.