coming round

we’d tried for a while

& I liked her some

but felt no spark

no lift of wings

but she kept coming round

would dust the place

move stuff around

& for a motherless boy

there is comfort there

never gave her a key

just a soft tap at the door

& she’d be here again

offering foods she’d bring

& every now & then

she’d bend in such a way

those legs’d catch my eye

a man is all he is in lust

I promised gave her nothing

for that soft tap at the door

& if there was someone else here

she’d go away without a word

come round again on another day

until I felt I owed her something

or was it just the pains of guilt

of taking & not giving

& when the landlord put the rent up

I moved

& never saw her



surly boys selling sausages

bored witless in my mid twenties

rootless caught by booze sex smoke

flitting between women’s houses

shack jobs where I never paved my way

to a future together

frittering money on motorcycles

living for the weekends

& nothing much else

because there was

nothing else

& then

I got a call: got a job for you

making tea & meals on the muckshift

cooking for the Irish boys driving big rigs

clearing the green fields for the motorway

to come

& there being nothing else to do

I stuck my thumb into the wind

clutching a leatherette bag

change of clothes jeans t shirts & music

to live in the dark end of Dave’s mobile home

that sat kitty corner in a patch of mud & green

to be getting up at 7.30 to cook bacon

eggs & beans for hard working men

lunch time meals afternoon snacks

in a green paint wooden hut on wheels

shifting to where the work was that week

finishing at 7.30 each night

& after a few weeks of good money

I bought my own mini mobile

had somewhere to breathe my own air

do my own sleeping in

tried dating the girl in the corner shop

whose ma’ sold me my supplies

though after a month we agreed

we were better friends than lovers

& never said our goodbyes

until many years later

other lovers

she died

coins of the i ching

that pretty head

bowed over the coins

sticks of the I Ching

searching the numbers for meaning

& I was but a fool

for not understanding the dream

she needed to know the portents

while I was drifting the scene

letting life roll on along

if we were to be together

let the future so be it

& if not

then all we had was nothing

our coming together

falling apart

was to be unseen

if time is an illusion

cold nights

I held on to you

as the world whirled away

spinning stories

to take away the hours

hoping some of these

could come true

we were so young then

everything lay in front

so much less left behind

if time is an illusion

ours then was but a dream

holding on to something

much better than nothing

& we had plenty of that

lovers lost in talking the night

this story is never old

never young

only endlessly repeating

history of dreams

& nothing had happened could bring them together

once a rich mans daughter

talking through a waterfall

or something between us

where I could see her yet

that I could never pierce

get to her close

tho’ we’d done

the between the sheets thing

she was there but not there

which had the irony

this was how it was in LA

when daddy summoned her

to his lonely canyon eyrie

his once upon a time rock star exile

every summer year to sit & listen

how his life was

& she’d fly back first class

clutching a fat plushy bear

& nothing had happened

could bring them together

I was relieved when she left

telling me I had nothing going on

that she could cling to

& a wise man

keeps his counsel

when words like that

get said


nothing brings my feet to return

knowing nobody in the land I was born into

my ancestors are long dead

buried burned scattered I know not where

the few people who say they know me

have not spoken heart to heart

sat to listen in a thousand moons

the last time we sat they spoke

of the many things they had said done

& when I tried to say I too have soared

they could only see me in terms as a child

of who I had been in the way back when

fear holds their feet to the ground tight

limits their thoughts ways of being

& to think of me as a forsaken child

hurts them because they did nothing

felt they could not get in the way

yet see no hand of theirs in my making

while I felt the lack of theirs every day

I grew strong without them their ways

& of all that scares them that is the most

a spirited child who found their own way

who in the end learned not to need them