Rituals is a collection of poems about the flicks and diversions of everyday conversation and interaction. The tactics used to draw or deflect attention, to maintain balance or shift equilibrium
It’s like any other office
smiling receptionist
chairs
magazines
and, “ won’t to be too long.”
Most come here
not to do
but to undo
undo, “ I do.”
Some with rancour
others resignation
others relief.
She is good at this
warm and compassionate
good with advice and price
deft separating
quick processing.
She has a poster – a couple looking tense
If rancour has been calmed
she turns it around.
“Okay, okay,” says half of the couple
“I take it back … unfuck you.”
We never went to a movie
or to a bar
never went fishing
or to football.
We did go to the beach,
one morning
after mechanical failure released us from work.
He dared a woman to swim topless
and she did ….. the opposite sex inclined to his bidding.
A conman
a gypsy
a sleaze ball
a mystic
all of the above …. and then some.
“Steve ” –
history doubts he was.
Just the two of us
and the owner
for the three months, as trees turned from green to red.
After two weeks he asked why I was unhappy?
except he used “ fucked off ” as synonym
– I thought it well disguised.
Thus began friendship
we talked – really talked – hopes and dreams
rearranged work hours to sun up start
finishing
then
talking and coffee through afternoon sunshine
and
sometimes a joint, joint.
Time was timeless, until the trees, finished time for us
no more apples : no more work.
Some return year after year
neither of us would –
that was known.
At the gate, laughter
and anecdote …..
“ remember that day when .… well, I suppose ”
Two young men
and affection
emotion too
self-conscious, we allowed neither entry
a handshake
“see ya,” I said
“have a good life,” he replied.
I never saw him again. I knew I wouldn’t.
Bill Wyman outcast in the Rolling Stones
by music and talent
perhaps not
bedded 2000 women – more probably he thought.
Can one person remember? 2000 opening lines
2000 hotel rooms
2000 post coital cigarettes.
Did he triage memory?
Good.
Bad.
Mediocre.
Comparative is best when only two
direct
easy
and inevitable.
There were only two –
two Antarctic winters,
one in the 1980’s and one in the 90’s.
Second time and I couldn’t help myself
measuring
matching
ranking.
Someone asked one day
I replied, “we worked harder than anyone here.”
His eyes rolled : why did I bother asking.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry 