The trouble is, I always thought of you
Polite on the beach in Auckland
Even though I’ve never been.
Just out of curiosity if I had, would
We have walked and looked for
Birds or played bowls?
Regret is too strong a word
When we made the most of your short trips
Back
What were we in the streams of life
And did we have a plan? Or was it
The unspoken tethers bred in chance
Meetings and events.
Making silent films on open heath with Grit,
Julia, Jerry and Kate.
What strings were attached to fake the wait? As if
We passed time before we left.
The future, the yearning
The lostness of our dreams
In bedrooms of tomorrow and the end
Appetite lost. In contemporary television drama speak
We aggravated before we jumped the shark
Your hair relaxes in the brush-cut miasmic moth
Of deeper lepidopterists than either of us
Dared summon, to pin out the corpses that we will
Inhabit.
A triumph of trumpets true
Bedroom
Stairs
Kiss kiss kiss