Posted in Lies


White middle-class Europeans
infallible cultural confidence as minority
striding through Third World
immunising, proselytising, electrifying, irrigating
strangely submissive at home as majority.

It was so much different second time around
another city, smaller and colder
figuratively and literally
nothing like the undergraduate bohemian subtropical.

We shared a house
two men and a woman
she employed in a halfway house
always being commuted from closure
he an encryptor of software.
Sounds like an opening line
the social worker, the computer engineer and the postgraduate.

Two men and one woman?
We joked we were the only two men in the city who hadn’t
although I wonder if someday Mark will say – “ well actually.”

Still, she introduced us to so many people
offsetting the austerity of workplace cubicle
and ivory tower policy studies and economics
on Friday nights
the house filled
with half familiar and never before faces.

Francisco, from Bolivia I think
or perhaps Peru. Dark ringlet haired exotica
charmingly unconfident English
often needing help with “ what do I mean ” – from women.

The night grows long – the room hungry
takeaways? ” No, no, Francisco will cook”
chunks of cabbage, cauliflower and carrots
not boiled enough potatoes
salt, pepper and butter. Much butter.

It is exactly what it is
large pieces of not raw, not cooked vegetables
marble pebble potatoes
yellow tide of butter
hypertensive salty.

“Ooooh Francisco,” young urban professionals coo
“this is fantastic.”



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

One thought on “Appetite

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