Easy Saturday

late afternoon

drinking with bar friends

summer easy

heading into the evening

letting the day flow

no thoughts of destiny

& in walked

all of her black haired beauty

we talked a little

as I drank her in

I wanted her

she wanted me

it was in the air

the way

we couldn’t stop looking

at each other

I said come on

lets go take a walk

see if we like each other

we went out

found a quiet spot

corner of the park

& the talking slowed

we fucked each other

oh so quick

got that

out of our systems

struggled back to the bar

& sometime later

she left with her friends

& I remember thinking

oh, was that it?

later heard

she’d moved on

found another man

six months go by

I get a call

you want to meet again?

we spent time

she moved in

& I thought it was love

those words got used

it was good

all that loving

she wanted me

I wanted her

but the world

always gets its way

I was no good for her

having no plans

no ambitions

skills to sell

pay the bills

& we drifted too long

expecting somehow

maybe like the movies

that poor love

to find a way for us

until she pulled

toward a different direction

& she let me go

& I can’t say it’s often

but there are days I think

of easy Saturday afternoons

doors that open

with a beautiful black haired girl

coming through the bar door

with a smile

& I order another drink


does not understand

when I say

hows’about one time

we could make this about me?

& it is possible

when watching close

to see her cogs turning over & over

when after all

she has kindly granted access

& surely that is enough?

she says ‘sure’

for after all

she has manners

‘I’ll give that a go’

& you know

now you’ve said the words

out loud to her


she can

never will

do so

avoiding the axe

with the dial on 35 degrees

it is difficult to think

of ordering the winter wood

to be split


when the dial hits 2 or thereabouts

even harder to contemplate

the swing of the axe

make it thud



cleaving round logs

into quarters to fit the fire

come December

a start must be made

for these too to sit in the sun

drying out


temporary homes for



& the wasps to take their nibbled share

create their paper drays

ice rattles now in my tall glass

as winter ice will shatter my bones then

for now the sun warms me

creates these lazy days

hazy in the shade

under the high trees

also avoiding the axe


Oh really?

there is

or used to be

in good restaurants



southern France

a box of matches

in the toilet

on the high window ledge

for after you’d stunk the gaff up

you’d strike one

let it burn for a few seconds

to help clear the air

& leave


he says

I’ve never seen that

I’d be nervous of an explosion

& everybody laughs

but I bet ya

next time he’s in there

he’s gonna

take a long look

Oh to be


him of a thousand sons

on the virtues of the grape

‘the sack’

as it was then

were I English enough

to carry the weight

of being accused




mistaken in everything

but living

railing against empty gods

in vino veritas


But a child

trying to find a way


out of

the cracks in your love

I feel like a lost adventurer

some mad explorer

marooned in a strange culture

where they laugh

at the inability to survive

understand subsistence skills

necessary to live

& I feel but a lost child

searching for escape

such hostile environments

all endeavour as futile

when nothing

you have

is give

grease on the wheels

You are not


while there is company

people to talk with

share ice cream


& spend time by


who will be there

when grandad falls

granny needs taking

to the hospital


& all this you hear

as inane chatter

is the grease

on the wheels

of family relationships

& no greek play


can help explain that