Monday, 10 May 2010

On a stranger at traffic lights

Strobe and wafering smoke,
And songs of sonic cogency.
Later, a pound for her rose before they stumble into a taxi,
Where tiredness is deeper than sleep,
Dawn, teething.

Years on:

I've only been in love once,
And fucked at will since.

He would turn over in another bed,
Disclose the meaning on his face
To a glass of water, or a family photograph
Without eyes.

Oceans away, she casts a shadow in a bathroom,
Her thin nakedness robed.
She grinds the teeth he used to mock-kiss,
Her pink fingers brushing ash from cashmere.

Intimacy substitutes intimacy for intimacy:
We call every new one the best,
And repress the dead bodies,
The truer love, the dormant perfume
Waiting for your stomach on a stranger at traffic lights.

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