From my bedroom window

A sudden, unexpected Vermeer glimpse

sunlit, through her part-blinded kitchen window 
of my neighbour, painting her fingernails.

Late-up dressing

The putting on of knickers

before my back is fully stretched

emulates the technique of the hoop-la

though usually with more success

and a less disappointing final prize. 

Returning from Penzance

Pub lunch near non-PC place called Cripplesease

against a background sound of Radiohead

and two men clacking billiard balls

interspersed with apology and exclamation.

St Ives

From within the restaurant (drinking cider, eating fish)

we are alerted to the arrival of yet another shower

by the groping at of hoods and the uprising of umbrellas.

On waking

Night sweats having put a stop to spooning,

I don’t know, when waking in the dark,

whether we slept apart by inches

or were separated by two cold feet (or more) of emptiness.

In between sentences

Shadows of the several notes and post-its

stuck to the shelf which runs above my laptop

create uneven battlements along the wall;

deterring invasion of ideas. 

5 a.m.

I dislike double glazing

for never allowing me

a clean view of the moon.

Preparing pudding

Soft, warm plums in a bowl

fast-flushed with cold water

decorate their crimson skins 

with drops of crystal silver.

Returning from town

Man and wife walk the dog.

Man holds dog.

Wife (who once harangued me about her desire to be screened for bowel cancer) carries bag of shit.

Wanting to hang washing out

It has to end somewhere, of course

but how annoying that the distant blue

to south and west

has stayed just as far away all day

and the part-blanket of cloud remained.