Saturday, 27 October 2018

Eating out in Adelaide

Table tilted twixt pavement and the street.  Trams hoot and judder behind. In front a parade intent on Saturday night, from posh to poverty. Gentleman's Club video plays behind tinsel-haloed angel-winged passer by and About intent on stealing serviettes is arm-locked and tumbled to the floor. Twice.

Tuesday, 23 October 2018

Bar in Darwin's Mitchell Street

"Two pints of Fifty Lashes. please."
"Pints? Big glasses?" Barmaid indicates with hands apart. Takes one from depths of storage to show us.
"Yes", we nod, mildly bemused.

Monday, 22 October 2018

Darwin, Adina

Waking in hotel room
trying to remember
the contours
Was that a recess?
Are there Venetian blinds?
Then colours. come
and shapes
Some blue into the mocha of the room

Monday, 15 October 2018

Last night's Indian meal - cultural adjustment

Four deep-dyed Scousers
returning, from their conversation,
from a boxing event,
several times demand samosas
butt only once say 'fuck'.

All changes when three locals
take a table across the aisle
whereupon they trade four-letter words,
friendly as could be.

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

On my way to buy a morning paper #86

Just round the corner
a banana skin
so fresh I guess the dropper
still chewed the final bite.

Three or four steps on, a rose
whose pale fat swollen pinkness
imitated mouth-cloying scented fondant.

And on return, I win my bet -
the banana skin uplifted and flown elsewhere.

Sunday, 26 August 2018

5.55 a.m. From my office window

Early morning pink
like cotton-bolls
short lived
and quickly fade to palest grey.

Friday, 24 August 2018

On my way to buy a morning paper #84

On returning from the still-shadowed cool
the warmth of the house
more welcoming than stifling
I kept my cardigan on.,

Wednesday, 23 May 2018

Awake


Thrown up from beneath the Hamnavoe
white against a blue-black sea
an endless chorus of can-can dancers
froth of lacy petticoats
legs lengthening.

Wednesday, 4 April 2018

On my way to buy a morning paper #83


I know the name for them is not begonias
(but cannot currently recall what the right one is)
and, remembering sun-bleached crèpe paper
(used for 1950s shop window dressings),
dislike them for the colour-fading of their flowers.


Friday, 30 March 2018

On my way to buy a morning paper #82


Reading this week about ravens –
the death of one, the threat should they all leave –
the crumpled blackness in the centre of the road
brought apprehension.
Closer, small relief:
only a gold-lettered M&S bag,
recently discarded.

Friday, 23 February 2018

Keep fooling me

Long-dead apples
shrivelled and brown
cling to bare branches -
chilly winter birds.

Thursday, 22 February 2018

On my way to buy a morning paper #81

Car-shape dryness
in otherwise wet road
signifies an overnight stay
its placing -
anonymous, unclaimed -
suggesting illicit,
adulterous.
I look around and wonder
'Who?'