We went to the Lesbian Society
At the local community centre;
They were reluctant to let me in,
But they did.
I’m not completely sure what I expected,
But I found big girls, denim and crew cuts,
Heavy rings, free souls and depression
Smoking fags.
Escaping the rain under Potsdamer Platz station,
You devoured Germknödel from a nearby vendor,
And I with eyes so full of wonder,
Devoured you in winter’s splendour.
You and I found the fountain of love and we dived in,
& Berlin traffic passed by unnoticed as a cloud,
And though the cold stole breath from our lips,
Eyes knew all that could be said aloud.
She moved the ancient, wrought iron
bistro chair in to the shafting sun;
All that rust adjusted to her finger tips
So comfortably.
Was the soft evening of a dream
and in the background
the menacing voice of a church bell
Tolled. Unwittingly she remembered
Her First experience of faithlessness:
As a young child, a bird bathed
in a make shift birdbath
That was a disused ashtray of heavy marble;
From early spring on to late summer
the bird permitted her presence
unusually close to it’s own,
and then one day it never came back.
She pondered on that deleterious experience
Eternally. Exasperated by its consistent
Repetition, in such a strange variety of ways,
Over the years.
The strawberries began to decay
In their pots, the strawberries
Began to decay;
Too much rain and not enough
Care, diagnosed a grower:
Too much rain and not enough
Care and the strawberries
Began to decay.
Too much rain and not enough
Care. Well, I feel much the same.
I drank Absinthe
In your absence
& drifted by the canal;
To do anything else
would be too, too banal.
I picked flowers
From sacred bowers
To lift me from a lull;
To do anything else
Would be really too dull.
“Please take a seat in the blue area Mister Bliss;
The consultant will see you when he can”
Was the offer from the middle aged lady,
With bad make-up and a D.I.Y tan.
In the uniform of hospital secretaries:
Powder blue tunic; a short back and sides;
With myriad buttons, badges and pins;
And drowned in perfume to keep off the flies.
Such a very odd sight, yet she will always belong,
Inside of her own little space and time.
And - as strange as she is to look upon -
I’m quite positive that she doesn’t mind.
The Orphean tone of your giggle
Encapsulates the romance of your situation;
I can not but stare at the deft movements
Of your ivory hands as you unfasten
Zips, straps and the bandana in your hair.
Lemonade Light filters in
Through dusty windows
And somehow frames you;
Somehow releases you from
Your earthly shackles and you float.
Struggling to remove your jeans,
You’re bent over, hopping,
But still managing to look at me
With those glorious eyes -
Cerulean pools of delicious innocence.
Do you remember when you taught me
what all the French meant in Michelle?
On that foggy morning,
On that ancient bed,
Pomegranate and cigarette fed,
I decided that there was no sort
Of knowledge more valuable.
You taught me all the important things of life:
Love, Lust, Laughter and Empathy;
Now I’ve learnt all about Tragedy.
You were my Oracle and I miss you.
What littleness
Is all this bigness hiding?
The boiling water you pour on ants:
Is it a signal
That you need scolding back to a harsher reality?
The stones you impetuously throw
At those who get too close:
Are you really aiming to bring down the glass walls
Which keep you preserved?
The scorn you release on the not-so-strong minded:
Is it because you had to teach yourself to care?
Or
Are you just evil?
I look at you and see true beauty contained
And behind your steely blue eyes
Lies something else that I just can’t decipher.
What littleness
Is all this bigness hiding?
