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.