Dot com

Kilometers from nowhere on a scented avenue - 

Lined with poppy girls. 

I didn't stop, stop to say hello. 

Curious vendors - waving bric-a-brac - 

Looked me over - 

Thought it best, best that I should go. 

Don't wake me: I'm falling. 

Slow spiral into morning. 

Who's out there? Can't hear you. 

Ears covered - early warning. 

Alarm bells ringing. 

Time to make my peace with the dreary day. 



I waited atbles - I was tipped in roubles. 

Wine to water 

Was the best that I could do. 

Wild office parties split the silence. 

Loaves and fishes at an empty table laid for two. 



Down the spiral, spinning madly. 

Gathering momentum 

On a disneyesque adventure ride. 

I fly in colours from richer palettes. 

Famous artists running scared as worlds collide.

It's a wide world out there 

So much wider than imagined 

I can't quite put my finger on the pulse 

Of your heart softly beating 

Just beneath the raw silk sheen 

That reflects the tints of autumn from the hills. 

So punch my name. 

And in case you wonder - 

I'll be yours - yours, dot com. 



Executive accommodation 

Bland but nonetheless appealing 

Waiters discretely at your beck and call 

Place the tall sun-down potion 

Lightly by your velvet elbow 

While you compose a message on the wall. 



So punch my name. 

And in case you wonder - 

I'll be yours - yours, dot com. 



With your handmade leather valise 

Packed and ready, ready waiting 

Showered and dressed down lightly for the heat 

Gice a clue; leave a kind word 

Hint as to a destination 

A domain where our cyber-souls might meet. 



So punch my name. 

And in case you wonder - 

I'll be yours - yours, dot com.

Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn: 

nose pressed against the triple glaze. 

Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, 

silent traffic streams both ways. 

Along the fussy freeway drivers 

dream of sunday barbecues. 

Of a sudden, seems I can barely 

face my self: no face to lose. 

Call the bosses. Call supervisors. 

Won't be in today to work for you. 

E-mail that girl who's working nights. 

She can dress down for this wind and rain. 

Leave her new korean compact: 

let some cabbie take the strain. 

Take a shower. Take big espresso. 

Take to the hills, and take a view. 

Little black dress stretching over 

hard crystal peaks: soft valleys too. 

Call the bosses. Call for nurses. 

Unfit today to work for you. 



No wet excuses. Absent without leave. 

I'll be her dayshift driver: exotic engineer. 



Stormy-eyed on the edge of night: 

(December, eastern time: late afternoon.) 

Atlantic City tight behind. 

Trump Casina calls pontoon. 

Gristle-burger, frazzled fries 

end this romantic interlude. 

Tomorrow morning's sweet awakening 

could hardly prove to be as rude. 

Make the journey. Make amends. 

Work some hasty overtime in lieu. 



No wet excuses. Absent without leave. 

I'll be her dayshift driver: exotic engineer.

I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver 

and hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over. 

Now and then: memories of men who loved me. 

No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me. 

I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow. 

Caught up in circumstance. Harsh truth for history to mellow. 

Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation 

magnified. Obedience: the better fellow. 



Better not remember me. Don't mis my passing. 

Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. 

We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender. 

Still waiting: bad blood running in close families. 

I laughed like any child - although you might find that strange 

and christmas was my favourite holiday. 



Christmas was my favourite holiday. 



I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows 

while others hide likewiese behind this vulnerable squinting. 

It's in the stare: it's in the silent scrutinizing. 

Strip you bare: I ofer you no more disguising. 



Better not remember me. Don't miss my passing. 

Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. 

We never quite vanish. No wet soft surrender. 

Same bad blood running in new families.

Hey little buddies: 

soft and silky night walkers. 

Dangerous species - 

Tiptoe menace long grass stalkers 

on my bed: 

no butter melting in your jaws. 

Bonding monster - 

Lethal weapon wearing claws. 

Let's go out to hunt by numbers. 



Tabby, spotted, black as coal - 

Serval, Margy, Caracal. 

Moggie in the moonlight listens: 

whiskered sensory miracle. 

Felis, befriend us - 

Egyptian Mau - Freya's familiar. 

Long in the future - 

Cloned disciples, the castle guard. 



Now, let's go out and hunt by numbers.

Hot mango flush. 

Ladies with ice cream hair - 

Gyroscopic pink neon beams - 

Everybody's happy about something. 

The crowd moves like a flock of startings: they 

switch direction as one. 

Jive on the jukebox - Jack and Joker 

split the night air with whoop and holler. 

Faint aroma - wood smoke, old fish, 

diesel harbour, roadside mongrel, 

painted man with buttons barely 

holding, bursting belly bulging. 

Doe-eyed ragamuffin mumbling - 

Scolded for some vague infraction. 

Stole a penny candy-coloured 

sweetheart kiss down at the market. 

Down at the market all the world 

seems to simmer: 

Hot mango flush.

As one, wet merchants turn their eyes towards the west. 

Trade winds falter as if in dire consequence. 

Freezing fish to fry, fail to materialise. 

Christ-child, blood-warm current sends to touch the skies. 

El nino. 



Bathing in uncertainty, another age 

seems to wing from T.V. screens in weather rage. 

Savage retribution makes for a headline feats. 

Planet-warming, opinion-forming headless beast. 



El nino. 



Cold thrust tongue extends its dark and watery touch. 

Forces gather, martial stand against the rush. 

Wily child in mischief here to make his play. 

Leaves toys for little sister on another day 



El nino.

Hand in the snake pit - black mamba chase. 

Head through the lion's cage - head on a plate. 

Two feet on the hot coals - last dance at the ball. 

Blindfold on the tightrope - whenever you call. 

Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crawl over me. 

Dark thoughts of the sleepless - hung out to dry. 

Slip through the bedclothes - unblinking eye. 

Long tongue flickering - fixed stare grip. 

Sweet venomous potion, held to my lip. 

Be my slippery slider, Black Mamba crwal over me. 



A tropical whisper. A sibilant kiss. 

Soft strike teasing. Dangerous bliss.

Hot Mango Flush

She's catching the wind: the gentlest of breezes. 

It's a sensitive passage she's sailing - 

Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings. 

She rises before me, reading me clearly. 

Empty nest left pressed in the pillow. 

She can shift, she can sway 

and bend like a willow. 



I'm swept in the riptide, caught in a fish trap. 

Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre. 

Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter. 

She's a good, a good God-send: she can bend like a willow. 



With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly. 

I'm cool under enemy fire. 

If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire. 



When I'm caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold - 

ease me round to her warm way of thinking: 

fill me up from the cup of love that she's drinking. 

And I find, given time. I can bend like a willow. 

She bends like a willow.

Placing people in their dreamscape 

with fantasies of foreign fields 

Lofty spires all well appointed 

In off-season special deals. 

To far Alaska: down to Ria in the Carnival 

Norwegian fjords in the ever-light of Solstice call 



A part of me might travel with you 

in a freebie bucket seat for one 

Business First - at last, forever 

Hopeless thoughts of flying fun 



Now get me out of here I cry in air rage psycho-doom 

I'm only dream-arranging from the safety of my room 



Pick a place or stcik a pin in 

any corner of the sphere 

Post me cards and tell me nicely 

Say you wish that I was here 



To far Alaska: down to Rio in the Carnival 

Norwegian fjords in the ever-light of Solstice call

Rusted and ropy. 

Dog-eared old copy. 

Vintage and classic, 

or just plain Jurassic: 

all words to describe me. 

Relaxed in the knowledge 

that happily present 

are all things to sustain me, 

nurture and claim me: 

roll back the mileage. 



You have settled beside me. 

To the far and the wide of me. 

A matter of choosing, 

of finding and losing 

on the rough ride with me. 



Take whisky with water, 

kick stones down the gutter. 

Think back to long days with 

stale breath recycled in my face. 

Rattling through airways - 

plastic on cold trays. 

Watching through windows, 

deep landscapes below 

await another time and space. 



There must come some time 

to walk through the night line. 

Hands tight: heads high. 

These are the dog-ear years. 

Don't turn back. Don't linger. 

For God's sake keep moving. 

Primitive shadows sidle beside.

I count the hours: you count the days. 

Together, we count the minutes in this Passion Play. 

Walk dusty miles. And I ride that train 

on a first class ticket, just to be with you again. 

Picking up tired feet. Back from a far horizon. 

Cleaned up and brushed down. Dressed to look the part. 

Fresh from God's garden, I bring a gift of roses: 

To stand in sweet spring water and press them to your heart. 



Like the Kipling cat, I walk alone - 

Never inviting trouble, never casting the stone. 

But this badge of honour is of tarnished tin. 

Lightyour guiding beacon to bring this fisher in.