poetry

Houseboat

Lazing riverside
Summer’s night
Splintered tables
Sticky thighs
Discarded suit jackets
Loosened ties
Abandoned shoes
Delirious eyes
Plastic jugs of booze
Dehydration maximised

Too much cider, too much wine
Collapsing on the Circle line
Starving grass beneath your feet
Grown tired of the city heat
Of fake Ray-Ban glasses
Of skin that peels off in sheets
Of volcanic buses
Of angry #heatwave tweets

I sit here, quietly,
Upon my molten seat
Catching drops of another nosebleed
Stirring my 2 litres of Pimms
Realising that it’s only ever
On days like this
Through the combination of having had
Too much to drink and enough of the heat
That I allow myself to dwell:
On where and who we could be
That I allow myself to imagine:
My God, how happy we’d be
That I allow myself to think:
If only we’d bought that fucking houseboat.

Advertisements
Standard
fiction

Harlem June Twenty-First

The windows in that apartment were dirty. So dirty that when I walked up to them and ran my hand across it, my hand was greasy. I opened the big one and walked out onto the balcony and rubbed my hand across the other side and made a porthole in the center of the grime and we laughed as I waved to them on the inside. Later we all went to the deli and got grapefruit. We sat down at the end of the curb and held our knees and watched Terry cut the grapefruit open with a hunting knife. We couldn’t go back to that apartment, me and her, until they decided to clean it, so we stayed outside when they went home. It was dark then and the streets shined in the light of a full moon. Me and her followed a few pigeons around outside the weird hardware store where they kept them on the roof. A man rolled a bicycle by yelling something over and over again. I thought he would kill us. But life was so short then, and we had nowhere to be.

Standard