like life was a race

I didn’t mind the work

writing things for a living

I’d wanted that since I was five

but dealing with the people

thinking & acting

like life was a race

work as a competition

for love from the boss

the creeping & bleeding stories

to make others look bad

got in the way

of the good times to be had

I tried to say just do your job

take the money home

get your love outside

of these grey walls

but no not for them

no love at home

no cat no dog

no loving wife

to throw a bone

so for them

the place to earn this

was there

the place called work

& that is what my love

of the writing became

work

& now thankfully

I don’t have to do that

degaussing

does anybody here?

I asked all solemn slow

know anything

about degaussing?

the conversation

went around some

not getting anywhere

until I explained

about the process of changing

the magnetic field of ships

to help them avoid

being blown up by mines

during wars

which created a whole

new conversation

until eventually

I got asked of why?

I might be asking

so I told those still there

(some had already moved on)

that it was my belief

somewhere along the way

I’d been sabotaged

with a fuckwit magnet

& now everywhere I go

fuckwits seemed to appear

the consensus apparently

was that like attracts like

coming closer

travelling south

looking out

waiting

for the terrain

to change

raising

of temperature

flora & fauna

shifting

600 miles

& some days in

for the first

bougainvillea

rising

over a wall

to see then

we were

coming closer

to where

we’d find

our

temporary home for the summer

had told me everything

sleeping the night

edge of a forest

wide fire break

& the old man (dead by then)

came in to my dreams

hallway of the old house

standing there faded blue jeans

light blue checked shirt

saying nothing

just looking at me

like he did

all those years before

I talked the next day

to those still there

is everything ok?

oh yes came the chorus

everything is fine

but I didn’t trust the line

to find out in the years to come

those had been the days

dirty deeds were done

being cut out of the family will

no thoughts or cares

for the old man’s wishes

or of course mine

all they wanted was the money

would climb over anybody

to get that shitty job done

& same as ever the old man

had told me everything

while saying nothing

captain

my captain

has gone

to where

we do not know

though there

is a strong possibility

he has gone on

dead

or maybe not

these being the ways

of those we know

as indigent alcoholics

finding their way

into our hearts

by their street antics

drifting along

searching

for the next drink

touch of easy money

which is all

he ever wanted

from me & you

the scratch for the itch

that never ends

until the very end

that of course

comes for us all

unseen

the world

or my tiny section

at least

was a very frightening place

the physical abuse

verbals too

complete lack of care

not anything that might

be called love anywhere

this I took

into my adult life

expecting nothing

but very much

the same

& slowly

ever so fucking slowly

I thawed

did the work

that those around me

could not dared not

& now these eyes

see the symptoms

the outward malaise

of other frightened children

in the bodies of adults

trying & failing

to make real connections

survivors of pain

moving unseen between

in history

oldest story

I liked her

wanted her

but she

did not want

to do

anything

like that

with me

though she did

like my friend

& worse

he liked me

but not her

a non

menage a trois

if you like

or don’t like

is all the same

to me

just another story

most people

don’t get to have

yet one

of the oldest

in history

where everybody is a loser

curling

these dances we do

pointing a finger

at others

ignoring those

curling

pointing back

forgetting

at the time

we were doing then

our very best

if now we know

better

those pointees

targets

were

doing much

the same

if they knew better

then surely

they’d be

doing

just that?

to be the best

on the inside

as well as

the out

with the bottle

all I was

despite my care

half baked love

sex & the passion

time spent together

all I was

was

a drinking companion

better still

I had the money

to buy the vodka

ready

for when she turned up

we’d drink long

then fuck some

after which I’d fall asleep

to find her at 3

sitting smoking staring

out the window

drink by her side

& it took me so long

to realise

all I was

was her drinking companion

another co-dependent

just one more enabler

& that this

was not a relationship

as she already had one

with the bottle

unravelling

pulling at threads

pieces of history

tugging at this

teasing other wefts

hoping for troubles

to fall out of the

mispatterned tapestry

mess that is

my family history

the more

that I learn

of those

gone before

the more

I understand

their inability

to be open

honest with each other

being born

into webs

crafted & created

by rotten fingers

long before

they like me

were born