Bridges

bridge

 

Not the bridge too far

Nor the one over troubled waters

Not even the ones you burn

So there’s no turning back

But that rope suspension bridge

Dangling over the gully

like a sagging power line

That me and my faithful mutt, Salem,

Can’t bring ourselves to cross

 

 

My Little Cloth Heart

indhhh

 

I’ve had it for a fortnight.

I use it on and off.

I clutch it to my real heart

when I splutter, or cough.

 

It helps absorb vibrations

shocks that might cause harm.

It keeps my body steady

and my spirit calm.

 

It is soft and cuddly

Pale red and bare.

Like Linus and his blanket

I take it everywhere.

 

 

Three Thugs and a Mugging

 

They came at me when I was at my most vulnerable.

I had just got up

And gone outside to pee

and was crunching on a few cheese crackers.

“Give us yer loot!” the big one intimated

With hard, implacable eyes,

Big bony dagger drawn.

So I did

Throwing the crackers at them.

They grabbed it in their beaks and flew off

Black cloaks drawn around them

Into the big blue sky.

A Move towards Empathy

big ballet

 

 

“You’re like Lee Chandler,” she said.

“Who?”

“Lee Chandler, the guy Casey Affleck plays in ‘Manchester by the Sea.’”

 

Jackson liked that film but he did not like Lee Chandler, the way he closed himself off from people.

 

“That saddens me.”

“That you’re like Lee Chandler or that I mentioned it?”

“Both.”

“The reason I brought it up is that I asked you if you’d like to see Anne perform and you said you’d give it a miss though I made it clear I’d like you to go.”

“I know. I’ve thought it over and would like to go see her perform.”

“Because you want to or because you’re afraid of being compared to Lee Chandler?”

“Both.”

 

It was a little late, Jackson admitted. It would have been better if he’d said so straight off but at least it was a move towards empathy. She would have to give him that.

Don’t Be Creepy

small eye

 

Don’t be creepy, I said, as she slunk down the passageway when she heard me

come inside and began circling the bowl.

I just fed you an hour ago.

But she looked up at me with her one cold, implacable eye.

Look at you, I said. You’re tubby.

I’m not fat, she said, Just fluffy. Will you please feed me?

I had no comeback for that.

You can’t argue with a cat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early Walk

music

 

On my early walk

I passed a group of musicians

Under the bridge

 

It sounded like

They were tuning their instruments

In preparation

 

For a concert

Perhaps a twilight one on the bank

The notes

 

Bouncing off

each other —Boing boing — like hollow

rubber balls

 

banjo frogs

amongst the rocks and reeds already

drawing a crowd