Monthly Archives: June 2013

I’m Too Tired To Explain

Every August they go on holiday.
Every August they get an Easy Jet to Europe.
And every time they ask us to hold the keys.
I said Yes.

I go in first to feed the cat
at lunch my wife opens the windows to let in some air
and come evening I lock up and that’s that.

He’s got brandy and a rack of wine,
smokes a cigar I’ve never heard of –
a wooden box full of them.
So I lit myself one.

‘Honey, did you leave a butt in the ashtray?’
‘It was a good cigar,’ I tell her.
‘A good cigar. A nice bottle of brandy as well.’

Though I haven’t told her of their Chiltern pots ‘n’ pans
or her Miss May skimpy briefs
and the bottle of pills and letters I’ve read.
No, I haven’t told her these things.

‘I fed the cat today,’ my wife tells me.
‘And do you know what I found?’
She holds up a pack of suppositories.

I get in from work at 6.30
but last night I thought I’d lock up before I went in.
I reckon the cat had been in their room.
So I straightened out the covers.

‘Honey, that’s a nice dress. Is it new?’
‘Oh, er…no,’ she says. ‘Er…no, I, er…found it in the wardrobe.’
I hadn’t seen her in that one before. Never in that colour.

I’m still rolling one of the cigars in my pocket
while my wife pours herself a glass of water.
‘Honey,’ I say to her, ‘Honey, did you know they have a Blue Ray?’

‘Honey?’ I call, ‘Honey, did you hear what I said?’
I go in the kitchen – she’s in her dress and crying.
‘Honey?’ I ask. She cries into my shoulder.
I pat her head. ‘Will it be OK?’ she asks.
I said Yes.

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Sub-Tropical Heat

When I first loved her
I thought of her as a statue – frozen in time.
If a fly landed on her the marble would twitch.

Flimsy Holes

I feel so happy today.
I have seen butterflies and harebells –
I feel so happy today.
Honey blue and amber sunshine.
So happy.