I WANT ANOTHER ONE ON THE PORCH WHERE WE USED TO FIGHT AS CHILDREN

 

You said my last letter

 

Sent you in to labour

 

That the flood and crash

 

Of memories and emotions

 

Made your waters break

 

Causing you to drop the paper

 

My words lying wet and crumpled

 

Ink running

 

In a puddle on the floor

 

 

 

I sit alone and consider it silently

 

I’m pleased

 

I think

 

Secretly moved

 

My words have sometimes been

 

responsible for making babies

 

But this is the first time

 

They’ve ever brought

 

one out

 

into the world

 

 

 

Hi Esme

 

Pleased to meet you

 

Your Momma hates me and

 

It only gets weirder from here

 

 

CHESTFUL OF DIESEL

I like the scent of the older women

When they sit near me on the bus

Not real old

Like

45

Or something

They smell of money

Luxury

and boredom

it makes me think of

huge green gardens

well manicured hedges

flowers all around

of great big bookshelves

filled with dust and shitty books

of fresh air and comfort

 

I wonder what they think of

When they smell my scent

A chest full of diesel

The belching’s of a tan and broken heart

 

They probably think of whiskey

And of fucking

Of failure

And seedy little bars

 

That’s ok

I think

I can live with that

Lies and misplaced judgement

Never really caused me any harm

 

It was the truth

that always

did me

in.

 

 

JENNY, YOU’RE EXCUSED

 

You entered my life like

 

a rock through glass

 

wearing nothing but tiny

 

summer dresses and

 

a clean pair of heels

 

 

 

You left my life like

 

Wet leaves down a clogged drain

 

Washed away in the storm floods

 

Looking far less prettier

 

Than when you first came

 

Crisp

 

Breathless

 

Aglow

 

The promise of something better

 

Dripping from your tongue

 

 

 

The bit in the middle is called life

 

Don’t feel bad

 

It gets everybody

 

In the end.