|
DANISH
PASTRY GIRLFRIEND
If
you're planning to jump out a
Window
pick a low one; if you're planning
To run
in front of a bus pick
A slow
one. If you're planning to jump
In a
river pick a dry one; if you're planning
To jump
off a bridge don't
Pick a
high one. If you're planning to open
A vein
pick a Please don't continue this,
She
said, it's alarming and tasteless and it's
Not
poetry. But it's about survival, I said,
And she
blew a smoke ring at me and my head
Disappeared
although she had given up
Smoking
and I had also given up smoking
Because
smoking can seriously damage
The
things you bought. And it's not
About
survival, she said, at all. It was
At this
point I realized I didn't want to
Have a
serious conversation with
Anyone
so I went and got myself a Danish
And
here is where I say Pastry or Girlfriend
But I
don't know which one's the one.
from 52 REASONS NOT TO HAVE SEX
(3) The
tree and its mischievous offspring,
(7)
Little sapling. (11) My misshapen destiny.
(12)
Broken manhole covers as an excuse for
Everything.
(15) They've stolen the rocks from
My
landscaped garden. And also
The
washing lines. (19) A neighbour
Walking
up and down the street and she thinks
She's
all big. (22) There is a mountain.
(27)
Airport full of scary people.
(29)
Immigration is at the door in their dark suits
And
frowns. (34) I know you told me Òtry to relaxÓ.
(35)
Deaf people who can't hear
What we
say. (37) A wakefulness
Striking
me as strange.
(39)
The memory of a poodle I bought
Ten
years ago. (41) Babble amidst
Incessant
quiet. (43) Somebody kicking the house.
(44)
Asylum seekers cleaning car windows.
(47) A
cow looking for the fire station
Is
disconcerting. (49) The ice cream van, and how
Its
music means he's run out of ice cream.
(50)
The vicar. (52)You may fall in impossible love.
WHELM
Underwhelmed
is as vital a critical reaction
As
over. Equanimity: perhaps the meaning should
Be
clarified before I go on. This morning Ivy
On the
sill is looking more dark-edged, Rose
Upon
the table is past her best but they are both
And
always will be beautiful girls. The flags
In the
kitchen are softening with age; with age
Perhaps
with flags may one begin to establish
Dominion?
If I knew what I was muttering about
I would
expect you to answer the question
But
it's okay: continue to smoke your bonfire
And I
will continue to bring you twigs
To wrap
around your thing in place of my arms.
Once
upon a time I just couldn't get enough of
You but
now I have had more than enough of you;
Do you
get it? The gift of plain speaking comes
And
goes as does the courage of my convictions,
Confidence
in my abilities, strength of purpose
And
what is this? Oh, Lily is drooping in
The
drawing room and in its cage a little bird --
Ennui --
is looking pretty kind of disinterested
In
these on-goings. There are issues here
But no
answers; it is okay to say that; I don't care
If you
don't like me any more; it's an opinion;
The
outlook from the window is undulating
Because
of the hills. I am not sure anyone can
Describe
what they don't do for me and mean:
I mean:
Is there a God of Flowers? A God of Love?
Is
there any way in which an ordinary person with
Good
intentions can just be untroubled and whelmed?
ANY
TRIFLING NICETY
The day
my waters suddenly broke
Was the
day I encountered identity
Crisis
for the first time. Also I forgot
The
meaning of quiddity and fell
Off the
ladder to Heaven, bruised
My toe.
Laughter is or can be cheap.
Once I
believed in the colour of trees
Because
lies couldn't be there, now
There
is only the white of geese
And the
black of beasts. Perhaps,
Said
the wardrobe, I am not an armchair
After
all. Then he went and learned
How to
play blues harmonica
Which
he likened to walking towards
Dawn.
Actually it was more like
Loitering
at a faucet to admire
The
flow of water while I collapsed
Astonished
by the rain of all summer.
When I
awaken I will let you know.
Thank
you, by the way, for the car
Delivered
into my drive by those
Gunmen
newly arrived from the Bank;
I am
sorry not to have locked away
The
dog. Usually nothing happens
Here
not even silence or its opposite,
Noise.
Only the morning sky
Is very
beautiful today: there is
Something
of the intangible girlish
Blush
about it. And an old gentleman's
Asleep on
a bench. It isn't me. It's me
Who
remains in the world like a ghost
Smiling
politely as if still wanting
To be
liked. It's me who goes out
And I
follow myself to make sure
I don't
do anything silly. And I won't
Come
home drunk as a skunk, not to
Night.
Oh look, a canoe has fallen
Off the
roof of that car. Oh look
There
is even more to see over there
A man
is in the moon's profile.
© Martin
Stannard 2005
|