Citizens of nowhere
It wasn’t until I gripped the sand with both hands,
I felt my heart beat in my fingertips.
A few times I asked for Adonis –
‘I don’t know anyone like that around here’.
My excuse –
this peninsular is narrow, my fetch mostly sea.
When I roam too far I become a macaroni dinosaur.
I gave up, met you instead.
Together, let’s take a stance in the storm,
away from consumers, whose confidence is slipping.
Stand as a compass, says Rumi –
with my pin-leg in St Ives I’ll swing the other to you across the Tamar.
My shags were rustic, now they’re cosmic,
last night I was blown to Venus.
When I come
down, I’ll iron a shirt without an iron, make toast in a pan,
but how do you channel clouds to rain
somewhere you’ve heard is too dry?
When I meditate on citizenship, I am empty.
Maybe one day we’ll be #homowners
First, let’s go for a cream tea –
stir jam anticlockwise into cream,
whirl and howl like an Atlantic depression.
Clockwise won’t un-stir, we’re merging pink!
Please tell me if I miss moments we could have connected.
Note: I’m almost off-road, verging on grass.
Where the bus ends, the sign says ‘geddon!’.
If we miss it: Armageddon.
I’ve almost stopped searching for the unavailable,
it feels good, like a void,
let’s keep sucking.