Virginia Talking

There are more people in this city than yesterday
or the day before for that matter
Summer's finally here for a final five minutes of silence
sweating like a confused android
dusty and romantic as hell

A can of beans is only appealing on glance
not considered or thought through too carefully
merely turned in the hand without its label
just a vague discolouration on the side

Even spider plants are abused
or whores shagging nearby cacti
in dead-end alleys, their roots
like burn victim rhubarb
picked by men in sandals

I collected peanuts in an empty glass
mistook them for pistachio cases
left them begging
beneath a merciless, blue sky
Torino was just a name or promise of meaningful old age
golden and tarnished by impotence
fretting over mortgages and cholesterol

Vine creepers with dainty white flowers
grasped at black plastic rain pipes
making their way toward the roof
before being cut back and denied ascension
chalkboards attempted irony
were found wanting both in product and production

Who reads these things?
Who camps on desire?
Who can grasp a chalice about the neck
not be swayed by greed or lust or commerce?
Who can while away their youth
without cracking, becoming an ill-maintained South London pavement
littered with half arsed forest fire fuel
crisp packets and cigarette ends?

I knew a girl
and her name was Jessica
or Francesca
or Mandy
or Alison
or Bunty
or Laura
or Maya
or Katie
or Cat
or Lauren
or Pippa
or Jo
or Hannah
or Stephanie
or Michelle
maybe it was Prax
we carried one another a while and sank
were buoyed up by collective emotional weight

I knew a man
I don't remember his name
It was something beginning
with the first letter of the Zodiac
mad and interred by imagination
maybe it was Father
He carried all my possessions to a crossroads
where I hoped to meet damnation and success
yet found only more road
stretching off three ways
into a wide and varied distance
badly drawn in charcoal
a triforce of decisions
I have yet to make

Humidity and thirst are high motivating factors
along with poverty, infertility and disease
you can drink water from the Thames
allowing the sediment to settle
gulp it down and be relieved
Death will still come for you
despite promise
despite love
in spite of will power

Seasons hold change for everyone
message in their movements
through a language propagated by Dolphin's or rainbows
where the end disappears
amid squeaks and clicks

How many seconds are there in a year
definable not by any clock or calendar
which you make use of
which you treasure and swear are special and unique?
Is repetition the slow death of energy
not only in muscular expenditure
but granular fatigue
in the gradual disappearing of coastal landmass
in the sifting of pebbles or settling of glass?

Conclusions are easily avoided
by vice and poison
pushed under the surface of lakes in New Zealand
remodelled into spelling mistakes
shopping lists
lemons
bladder-fullness

In one sitting I find I'm able
to condense my thoughts
into smoke on a mirror
into dirty feet
and trailer park gossip
passed around or tapped
from bulk-buy wine boxes

Things used to be cheap cheap
but now they're expensive
heavy or light without substance
and so are internally heavy
as though something has been lost
or become vague and disappointing

A rabbi, a skunk and a clown
enter a casino
A policeman, a rock and Krishna
enter a pawn shop
A demon, a candle and an offshore technical operator
enter limbo

Kinetic expectation is withheld
bottled or scripted by comedians
and hacks and Webber
still, there are more people
in this city than yesterday

J. x