Lapses to lyrical whimsy.
I’m drunk, but then chrysty
is very much drunker;
we are both in the sitting room
home late from bar-hopping,
sprawled about sideways
on carpets annoying the dog.
in the taxi this evening
she yelled at the driver
for a while when he said something
racist. I stared out the window
and didn’t say much
to defend her – was useless,
my hands useless
flippers, eyes wide on colours –

how streetlights at night
in a blossomed car-passage
share some of the function
of flowers; their shines striking raindrops
which settle on windowpanes
and circle to petals like fists.
if a bee flew at night
it would be confused
by the colour; I was delighted
in passage of half-
drunken night.

and much drunker now,
also feeling better,
now chrysty wanders
to the bathroom away
after sitting with legs out
and pulling the dog’s ears.
and the dog looks on after her;
hard to tell what she thinks
of our occasional lapses
to silliness, to lyrical whimsy.
possibly doesn’t enjoy it,
but she likes us the rest of the time,
and the times when we’re drunk
and come home very drunk
are the times that she sleeps
in our bed with us.

my hands brush the carpet.
there’s beer in the fridge
but I don’t want it more
than a little. I’m content. roses rise
and approach swaying
hangovers – a saturday
morning spent sitting about.
chrys flushes and the pipes play drums
inside the walls of this house.
frighten birds out of trees
and cause traffic jams.
she opens the sitting room door
and the dog gets up. I get up idly,
and idly follow them both.
 
Like water we take shape
the trouble is
everyone knows
everyone’s
story. you can’t
go anywhere
Irish and talk.
my friend Matt
can (English).
and my friend
Andre. I haven’t
seen either in years.

you leave
in your 20s, come
back in your
30s, and it’s like
a summer
holiday from
school. look:
the patterns
don’t break.

20 years later,
and Gary’s still
quietly noble.
my friend Jack
still autistic, my
friend Fallon a wit.
when I see them
the same girls
get me tongue-
tied as did at thirteen.

it was different
in London and
Canada a while.
like water, we take shape
to fill what’s
around us.
I met people –
used them
to scaffold myself
as a man.
but like water also
in a jug
at a restaurant –
charge what you want,
it’s still water.
 
Entertainment
we were 3rd floor-
up walking, and one
off the top – seeing
the street

we could never
see anyone’s
faces. but it seemed

someone stuck up
the local
off license –

blue lights
in our window
and people
being searched.

the evening
had spoken
of long
empty nights –

now look –
here’s our
entertainment!

and a week
ago only
someone went
off the bridge.

then there
was even
a boat.