Aber Winter

It’s warm in here
Cafe 48 lovee
She says when I ask
Looking at the loyalty card, the matching Tees…
48th ‘Cafe #1’
Not quite 50. A long way from the top.

It’s cold as a bastard outside
As my father-in-law would say.
Wooly hats and fleecy tops
High-vis vests on stoic workman
Short mountains on stocky legs
The Aberysters take comfort over fashion.

It’s cold outside alright.
Wind like a banshee
Whips along grey gutters
Double-glazed shutters
Past silver hair dos
Horn-rimmed faces
Clarks leather shoes
Dark brown laces.

God it’s cold out there.
Cold but not snow-cold.
No white release, gentle peace.
Aber is a poor lover:
Timid, daunted, placid, flaccid.
Forever held in Tantric suspense.

It’s cold but never cool.
Kentucky Woman on the radio.
Girls with iPhones wander in
Wander past, wondering
When to leave, where to go
Or stay forever and regret.

Damn cold today.
Cold enough to question
To ask those tricky ones.
Those big moments
Eureka. Hallelujah. Godforsake ya.
Leave if you can
Stay if you musta…

Crazy cold, eh?
Oh yer she says
Without conviction.
Yes I need a bag
A bag, a bullet and a shotgun delivery.
Shoot the cold breeze
Shoo, shoo little bird
Shove off


Valentines Day

What a bore
New lovers brag success
Cocky with cocksure knowing
About nothing
At all

Old lovers slow clap from sidelines filled
With bruised and broken veins
Cheer without conviction
They meet the gaze of those still unchosen
That unjust army
Those unlovely lovers
That cruel, unnatural selection
Leaves more deserving players
Unmatched, disconnected, stateless

And of me? Of we?
We so reckless
Did we think it couldn’t break?
No Kevlar flack against these bullets
No Gortex fibres for this storm

No surprise our clothes are
Falling rags, beyond repair

We barely dressed for the occasion


I Want to Be…

I want to be great.
A great lover of great women.
Proud. Prowess. Excess.
A spectacular dongle
Hangs to my side.
A battleaxe to make the feeble tremble.

I want to be strong.
Big man arms.
Broadside Chesty Bond
Big throttle handshake
Pinch those biceps.
Ooohh… They’ll say…

I want to be smart.
Whip sharp. Smarty pants sharp.
Sharp as a Faber-Castell, fresh cut.
Quick as the crack of whippet’s tale
Smarter than ol’ King Kong
Meaner than a junkyard dog.

I want to be rich.
Richer than Richie Rich.
Rich and silly with it.
Tip the waitress an easy hundred.
Special club lounge VIP, pointy-end rich.
Yes Mr Sir. Let me take your lovely coat.
Toss the keys to the valet with a wink.

I want to be seen.
Seen on the TV the old way.
Not YouTube. Not Instagrim
Not Snappy Chatty, What’s Appy.
Big screen mean seen.
Oh… There he goes…
Front of the queue for him.
In you go sir…

I want to be serene.
Know things. Wise things. All things
Oh he’s so peaceful!
Like he sees the world just as it is.
Mind like water
Like Teriyaki Hydroponi

I want to be honoured
Honour rolled.
Knighted and knotted
Citizen of the year
Mr Universal

I want to be free
Doubtless. Stateless. Hapless.
A patch of air.
A piece of sky.
A tiny thing.