fishing

I could land them

but I could never

find the way to keep them

maybe it was my way of talking

that not give a fuck thing

I had going back then

some said it was my bedroom eyes

but they came they went

maybe I was no good at the sex thing

so few of us are

according to the women’s magazines

useless at commitment

was a word that got flung around

but I didn’t care there were always more

fish in the sea

more of me

to fritter away slowly surely

into decay

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I reckon

one cold frozen night

when the thinkin

gets to be a problem

you can run me outside

don’t leave the door open

see if I can work my way

back inside

& if not

well then

surely the problem is solved

I don’t want to get

be like these

sittin in traffic mind all closed

wonderin what

those yellow blinky lights do

walkin around

forgettin their street shoes

let age be for those who want it

got their own

yearnin

for achin grown old bones

I’d rather be remembered

bright as a button

shapin my life

not headin downwards

soft in the belly head

everythin a strife

a burden on those I loved

forgettin their names yesterday today

riding

was I just younger then?

more open to the what happens

I had to just get away

thinking if I stayed somebody would die

& I did not want that to be me

riding out into the country

letting the miles slide by

pictures in a picture show

eyes caught by the wind

or so I wanted to believe

& then the sound no rider wants to hear

a missing beat in the engine

coughs & some loud backfire

& you count back miles to the gas stop

think of things that can go wrong

pulling over when the lurching begins

a dry scrape side of the road

checking the fuel plugs

doing that whole sweating kick start thing

& a bike pulled in behind

fella gets off’f it strolls over

y’ok? need a hand?

& you go over what’s been gone over

they notice a break in a HT lead

yeah that’ll do it eh?

grins all around

come back they say I got tape to fix that

& you follow

what else is there to do?

back at theirs the helmet comes off

& you see the first time

the rider is a girl

they notice the surprise & smile

gotcha eh?

you fix the lead

while she makes the coffee

& you get to stay a while

trouble to my door

you brought plenty of things

nights of love & laughter

sweet sunny days that sped by

the happiness togetherness brings

times with you in Paris France

where we didn’t need music

the booze to get us up

on our feet to dance

& if I could I’d do it all

driving through Spain

the bullfights running the streets

sleeping outside too hot sheets

endless distances in deserts

to hold you close to me

but I swear I’d do it different

say goodbye sooner

before you created the rain

so I’d feel the same sad pains

of goodbye & distance

but not let you

ever again

bring trouble to my door

days like these

from about eight ‘til six

I don’t talk to nobody

maybe send a text

message on the media

but words don’t leave

unless I kick something

stub that toe

say things unheard

& that’s it

this focuses my speech

so when I do

i utter from back of the box

about stuff thought on

& the links between

string of social meanings

are either loose

or long gone

& I hear your voices as loud

need to cover my ears

until we readjust to reality

again

after her

I never wanted another

I wrote that out so many times

dropping the overscored notebook in the ‘bin

discarded disfigured evidence

of the deranged crazed ex lover

that I was

& knew I had to pick up the lesson

or sure as hell life would send it again

& my friend who loved me told me:

find a boring person make the change

you go after the exciting girls & women

find one that doesn’t excite you that way

took me some time to understand

my antennae were tuned to fast times

thinking these were the only way to fun

I did find one who didn’t tickle me right away

let that develop between us soft in light

& learned slow perhaps the best way

she was not boring just would not hurt me

the old ways were not always the best ways

& my antennae needed a re-tune to work right

people who think they are clever but are really only being sly

we’ll call him Dave

& her Sue

because those are their names

Sue was my whore not that she did that for cash

just the booze, the thrills, the action

she was married lived part time with her husband & kids

& spent most nights party time part time with me

she loved my easy ways

the letting the whatever future may come life

that & my unfussy ways of drinking

there was always more booze more to be had

Dave was a guy I worked with who hated me

though he wasn’t smart enough to know I knew

he’d learned young to fake sincerity

& thought that gave him the edge on everybody else

Dave & Sue met at one of my parties

recognized each other for what they were

deciding to keep me in the dark was the best thing to do

Dave would call on a Wednesday night suggesting

we go for a drink

& I’d be: can’t man, I got a night shift to do

which he knew

maybe the weekend eh?

which he could never make

not understanding I have a third ear open

listening to the fake

& sure enough

the next morning grey eyed blurred with fatigue

I’d see her car by the kerb outside his place

& I’d breathe a sigh of relief

hoping that what they had would take

she would transfer whatever emotions she had for me

onto her new victim

they thought they were oh so clever

but really

were only good

at being sly