No wonder there are so many love songs.
There are so many ways of getting love wrong.
Most celebrate one or more of these.
There’s more mileage in them than in ecstasy,
a much rarer state to which we all aspire,
happy to burn in love’s all cancelling fire ,
shortcomings forgotten, emotions turbo-charged,
our lives in an instant totally enlarged.
These songs are the apex of creativity
even as they approach ineffability.
*what are some of your favourite love songs?
You & me, we bifurcate
you come early, I come late.
You like trains, I like buses.
I don’t know what the fuss is.
You my tunnel, I’m your train.
We have each other on the brain.
You like reds, I like whites
you my afternoon delight.
pic courtesy of Pinterest
the musky glow of the candle bowl
the frisson of flesh on flesh
the cinnamon zing of Venetians
crosswords over coffee
Joaquin Phoenix singing Cry, Cry, Cry
the ineffable sadness of Jackson because we both
know people like that
the voice of Johnny Cash, proof that there’s a God
Rick Springfield on Gospel Radio speaking to the sky
& those blackbirds, after rain, bless their untidy little hearts.
Quilton Loves My Bum
I know it’s clever advertising
but it’s kinda creepy too
the idea that some stranger called Quilton
‘loves your bum’.
Going by his presence on the supermarket shelves
he seems to love a lot of bums.
I’m sure it’s Platonic
but couldn’t they have used ‘like’?
wouldn’t that have been preferable?
It’s sort of reassuring that Quilton ‘loves’ your bun
but it’s kinda creepy too.
I am learning the pleasures of sleeping in
Not leaping up at the first bounce of whimsy
Things can wait.
The Mad Hatter will still have his ball.
Blades of grass still grow tall
If I sleep in.
There will always be another train pulling in at the station.
Things will not be rationed any more or less
If I rest.
Wendy will still be in Neverland
& I can still hold your hand a little longer
If I lie in.
Dreams will not evaporate.
We can still meet each other at the gate.
Beneficence flow free.
I will still be me,
The lambs still bleat.
If I sleep
* with thanks to Chelsea who saved it & David R who inspired it
Do you realize it’s our anniversary today?
No, I didn’t.
Yes, we met a year ago today. In this pool.
Is that right?
Do you know something else?
What? She says.
We have never seen each other with clothes on.
You make it sound sexy. What shall we do to celebrate?
Swim, I suppose.
So off we go, me in my lane, she in hers, like we’ve been doing every Sunday for a year.
- do you remember where you spent your first anniversary?
In the air;
On my neck
down the pike,
In yr text
- photo from Unsplash by Oscar Sutton
Speckled with yellow and black light
he focuses on his phone, has he got it right?
Tentatively the fingers tap.
She’s aggressive, he defensive,
She certain, he apprehensive.
They both know what’s coming next
if he misreads another text.
- have you ever sent or received a text that was misinterpreted?
*photo by Eddy Billard on Unsplash
You got to feel sorry for single white rolls.
Even in packs they can’t make a go of it.
Maybe they should take a good hard look
consult relationship experts like couples
on Married …
or search for roll-mates on Tinder.
There must be someone out there.
If ‘Baked Fresh’ doesn’t confer any advantages
I don’t know what does.
Even when consumed they die alone.
It must be a lonely existence.