DeepWave

The red-white bus swallows us
together
for the last time.

time, now, to take a long hard look
at places we have passed many times,
but may never pass again

Hard to believe
I will never see you again
except in aging photographs.
(Looks fade,
but pictures merely yellow
and crisp with time)
Youth captured,
companions forever in stasis,
as we prepare to part.

the wind, scented with a potpourri
of PVC, frangipani and exhaust fumes,
ruffles my hair and yours

Was it just yesterday
when I first met you
or have I known you
all my life?

you stretch, leaning to reach the bell

I will miss
your laughter
the laughter you brought me
the tears and pain you always hid
(Who, now, will see and soothe them?)

I’m wishing this ride could go on forever
but the bus driver can’t possibly
know that and so the bus
lurches,
stops

I turn, to etch in my memory
one final image.

A smile falls gently across your face.

slender, questing fingers
of reminiscence
stroke
the old scar,
your memory

tainted ambrosia

exquisite agony
dulls
to a mere
sorrowful, aching
hurt

the poison burns in my veins

which i am so used to
that if you returned
and took it away
i might miss it
instead of you

          a   

     lone

voice
s  t  r  a  i  n  i  n  g
tobeheardinthebabbleof
theeverswellingeverthronging

cho
     ru
          s

Every time
we tread this route,
he laughs with me
but laughter does not touch my eye.

I gaze instead
at the back of your head
and hope my voice
gives you both the lie.

The sail fills and curves.
As sunlight glints off
the blue-green,
faceted face of the world,
we rock endlessly, gently,
salty air a balm
to frayed nerves,
sea-spray cooling
sunburnt skin.
Rocking endlessly, drowsily,
returning to the rhythm of the womb.
Returning home.

Crickets chirp
Icy moon scowls from
her ice-flecked darkness.
I wonder.
Does she ever feel lonely?
I shiver,
long for warmth of inside,
call softly,
tap on frost-crusted pane.
But
The glass is too thick
and darkness too viscous.
Tonight
I will keep company
with the moon,
learn from her,
freeze my loneliness.

Anxious to spread wings
Jump,
land on nothingness
From necessity
Soar,
ever knowing
the drop from here
to the ground
is infinite
death.

There is no going back.

It swims, lurks
In the murky recesses of my mind
Then deadly, accurate
Bullets true into my consciousness.
They say that when the
    
      heart
   is
        pierced, one
          
          feels
       no
             pain.

Nevertheless,
     a single tear
  (why is it not blood-red?)
                 falls.

Dog food, dry, wet, sacks and cans
Stand proudly at attention beside
A rainbow of flea collars,
Tick bath, doggy shampoo
Chew toys, flavoured
(Your pleasure, Herr Doberman?
Chicken? Beef? Seafood?)
and gaudy rubber balls.

Outside,
a hungry stray whines
as a scrawny beggar kicks him.

Better to have loved and lost
And lived to love again.
Hearts, once broken, feel more keenly
All life’s joy and pain.
But when all is said and done
Far better to have loved and won.