When she threw the toast and
much of it lodged in my right ear and
a crunchiness developed
in my hearing and
something dripped
from my nose
peanut butter perhaps
I resolved always
to avoid
this kind of thing
at breakfast

This giant toenail under the bed at
Hotel Tatin, Lamotte-Beuvron, 1880, Room 9
is not mine
its immense
must be 3 centimetres wide
Common sense
tells me a mature orangutan
boned his rangy orange paramour
and opened up his heaving hairy heart
then decided on a pedicure
before his next Parisian tart
tatin
tatin
tatin
3 sisters
all into cooking
all tarts

I got a wee cough
nothing serious
just persistent
my wife seemed cool
a little distant
and resistant
to anything I offered
by way of a joke

“I told you not to smoke”
she sounded
very satisfied
I sighed.

I went to see the doctors
got sent for tests
to know the truth
it’s for the best

“You’ve got Big C”
they said with max reverb

I said “Oh?
How long? What chances?
Why does my voice echo?
What’s the word?

I threw up
in the institute
in the chemo
on the radio
but after stem ginger
more carrots
than you could
shake a stick at
and what puritan joys
I could afford
I settled into micro-life
it was jolly
in the ward.

When I slid away from them
all the friends I’d met that day
and all the ones from decades back
it was a wondrous journey
the best I’ve made….
a starry tunnel then the light
shining reunion with mother
in a long white dress
and a young beauty again.

She said
“Who’s that dreadful girl
you were with?”

I looked back
saw my wife
mouthing the words
“I told you so!”

for one the other night
they were asking me:
“Does your old Dutch still chew steak knives?”
I said “No, though she’s still a good sword-swallower.
She’s taken to chewing Scotch Eggs
and she spits the gristly bits
on the waxed parquet
which irks me.”
“Irks?”they said
I said “Yes I feel irked sometimes,
because my espadrilles skid
on minced rectal tissue.”
“How are the kids?”
they said by way of passing time
“They’re fine…just fine
just fine…”

(and he said this sort of thing alot)
Theres a wonderful moist conductivity towards the centre
of a Scotch Egg

A few friends in one night
old hippies
turned teachers
antique wheelers
and dealers
in aerosols
scaffold erectors
people back from long journeys
or breakdowns
listening to ancient records
by a man called John Lennon
long dead.

John sang our song
so I kissed you for three and a quarter minutes
from start to end of track
tongue right down the throat
in front of everyone.
Spontaneity,
like the old days
especially as I’d brushed my teeth.
and you smelled of lavender
and were wearing a clean Kaftan.

I think I was saying something
the way I suppose you do
at your wedding reception
for public perception
so they know
this is it
this is strong
this is a hit
this is long
this is fertile
this is receptive
this is the hot bit
that matters

I had received these friends in my house
but they didn’t receive me.
This crudely artisan expression
of my purest public love and lust
was perceived by our audience
with glances of deep mistrust
I was kicking up dense undisturbed dust
and you were
embarrassed.

We just dont do that any more
now we’re older.
Our receptions are colder.