Last night
when you were sleeping
I was awake
and bored
and so
I strayed to your
diary, with
your thoughts
and notes
about him
you and
me

I read it twice
the second time whilst
pinching myself
to check
I wasn’t dreaming

Afterwards
I drank some water
came back to bed
and looked at you
face down
on the pillow
snoring

I couldn’t sleep
knew what you’d said
about him
you and
me
so I opened the window
stood
looked out
at the quiet
city streets

The air made me tired
eventually
and back inside
to bed
so I lay
with you
each on either side
facing opposite ways
and I dreamt
of the time when we
first met

In the morning
the day breaks like your
first smile
warms the world
yet
somehow I’m not touched
remain as the night
cold and
frozen in time

i used to
think how
it was right
now i see
whats left

Silence is
an art or an
act, sometimes
both

and did no-one think
that maybe
what was said
come Saturday
had not been driven
by events
from Friday night

instead

it had driven them
by how he’d felt
and how he couldn’t feel
anything else

Paper.
Post-it notes.
A telephone.
4 filing trays.
Statistical analysis software.
A Dilbert mouse pad.
A portal into another world.
A pen.
A calculator.
Three blank dictation tapes.

I emailed the brother of namesake.
Said hello.
He said silence.
That’s golden, I thought.
The best gift of all.

Amended 15 May 2005

The person who I am
is
an accidental creation
if it was down to me
next time
I’d be more like you
you’re perfect
and I like that

Amended 15 May 2005

The author is dead
the text a rotten corpse
dissected
by medicinal readers

Went to the dentist
you’ve got to laugh
its the gas.