The best thing
about the notion of
the bottle
or its cousin
the can
is the pretence
that its your
true friend

in the corner
the sack
full of man
makes noises
whimpers
and shakes
till silence falls

and she
in the kitchen
listens

and the sack rolls
slightly about the floor
though in the cellar
no-one hears you scratch

and she
in the kicthen
wonders if the house is haunted

the best thing about
the sharpness of poetry
is abstract meaning
remaining always
with you
on show
when there is nothing else to say

Earlier
there were thoughts and
words and
ideas

falling

like snow flakes
in front of me
ephemeral
beautiful
no two alike
though
all of them
similar.

Now
beer salts the thoughts
as
the mind rots
happy in inebriation
and meanings
intentions and
the rest
slide away
lost without care
for the rest of the night

After silence
the words erupt through a crack in the
brain
spill across the keys
and infuse into code

Life starts tomorrow

today is stasis

yesterday a dream

Every morning it was
and is
the same

journey
after
journey
after
journey
after

stop

and look around

Faces
that age and
are replaced
by new
young or
old
look back
again
and
once more

a daily grind
or grand journey
moved
by tidal flow

Again

same
time

greeting
feeling
parting

We went to the station platform in the late
evening. No-one was about, the trains had
long since stopped running, and
we could be undisturbed until the morning.

The night drew dark around us, softened by
the warmth of platform lighting. Earlier in the
day we’d been by the lake-side, watched
swans, had our fill of cheap food and beer
and watched the quiet town from the comfort
of patio seats.

Now it was time for rest proper.

The chill of the air was gentle in its arrival,
a quiet the breeze from the lake under the
cloudless sky. Tomorrow would be a good
day. There would be another train journey –
after a false start the movement back to
bigger towns, that would see the trip’s end
in Prague.

No matter the cold, the singing of the birds
or the unwatched bags at our feet. The
night’s rest was steady, with broken sleep
and the dreams of where next we would
arrive.