Sunday, 4 July 2010

The Handshake

I reach with my fingers
as far as an arm’s length
out to my neighbour

who’s arm juts out
like a lever, a handshake,
onto mine with a squeeze.

Beyond him there’s vertical
plaster, magenta,
windowless, cold

and outside, birds twitter,
traffic va-vrooming,
Doppler rising.

I get that my neighbour
is friendly
or a vagabond,

maybe a vampire,
an alien
or devil.

Stuff - stuff and nonsense,
he’s human, with eyeballs;
away with my twaddle,
how far can we feel?

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