Posted in Chutzpah

Third Time Lucky

Workmates not always remembered proportionate to time
common years never thought of,
barely recalled
a few weeks never far from consciousness
frequently recounted.
Conor,– Irish, travelling the world,
work lives overlapped for about six weeks
caricaturally Irish – brogue, auburn hair
not always intentional or aware.
Like the time he told us about
talking to a Danish backpacker, blonde, pretty
and a boy’s thoughts turned to boys’ thoughts
“ I asked if I could go to bed with her.”
we were dumbstruck
“you what ?..”
“Well I was feeling quite horny a the time,
so I tort why not ask?”
Connor !!!
Tis not the first time…
it didn’t work then either.”



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.