Andrew's talking

about going for a walk;

which he can’t see the point of.

Not useful like eating a plate of chips

or singing; like puppets and funny voices

or stories on the spot, extemporised. No,

it’s NOT a good idea to walk cold.

Why would you, when you can smile and

connect and have a laugh, hug?

He says ‘No, I be leaving!’ and we answer

‘Come on then, put your coat on luvvie!’

‘No – I be leaving’ and sits looking stern and worried,

intent on NOT leaving by saying he’s leaving;

meaning - no shoes, no coat, no mud.

No! No - he’s LEAVING our suggestion to be leaving

because it’s NOT fun, is it?

….walking…. and looking ahead…. avoiding connection.

Pop

Lying back in a warmly scented bath,

I’m feeling for something – call it sound

out there - around - not completely heard.

There – a hum of central heating,

traffic vroom, pop music,

a human voice, muted, dark:

outside - a strimmer zips,

downstairs sons knocking

and, here, a soapy

heap of bubbles

popping

popping

tension,

in me.

At the bar,

tighter than a bud in early spring,

every northern landlord is a king

‘til Andrew walks up to the bar with a grin,

looking for chocolate and lemonade too;

elvis is here and he sidesteps the queue,

wearing, with pride, an invisible crown:

this moment, these people, his own.

Grouse Death

There’s no doubt the grouse hit another car

this morning; when it was too panicked to learn,

to go back, or leap, it finished crawling the road

back from impact to kerbside.

I felt a shocked relief – a selfish, sad reaction

because, almost smug, I went along

with no responsibility for the killing

but now I ask - why didn’t it fly, why didn’t it fly?

Meditation

A man plays guitar

- 3 chord positions –

in the meditation room.

Some people lie

or sit like Buddha

or cronk in a chair

in the meditation room.

Some are singing,

a couple talk,

none are silent

in the meditation room

and with all this ruckus

I’m fiery and hot

in the meditation room.

Slowly

I decided to tell you

slowly

when my Dad

walked up the beach

in baggy shorts and sandals

on his last ever holiday

he was fascinated by pebbles, shells,

people passing in bright shirts

and he smiled in the sun

taking all the time

in the world to

walk and look:

slowly

I decided to tell you.