Sunday, September 23, 2007

late night 'poetry'

Late at night.
All alone.
Feeling less alone after a good day.
But still alone.
Thinking of something.
Sex maybe.
Infatuation or intrigue.
None of this will materialize.
Just fantasy.
Non committal fantasy.
And I go to sleep alone.
Not alone.
The cat curls up.
Pinning the blankets around my legs.
Rendering me immobile.
Can I complain?
I remember being sent poetry.
‘I wrote one of them’
He says
‘which one’
‘I won’t tell’
I think I’ve picked it out
He’s trying out romance
Seeing if it fits
I’m the guinea pig

Can you tell me something?
Something to make me think
Make me change
Make something happen
Not right now
You will have to settle with what has already been said

It’s difficult to pinpoint
This mixed bag
Of mysteries and disappointments
Hoping the next will be a surprise

When the page breaks is it time to stop?
Stop what
Just stop
I don’t know – no one told me the rules
That’s good
I don’t like rules
Neither do I
So let’s just play it by ear.

If it all didn’t come along so quickly
I might be better prepared