are you miles away?

will we always sit here
half naked with the wall paper,
and the dripping ceiling,
(where is the bucket to catch
the rain drops which crawl
their way from the roof)?

will we always cross our legs
the opposite way,
i to the left,
you to the right, leaning on your elbow?

why do you wear your hat in doors,
is it to do with the radio waves
you once told me about
the ones slow as grass,
slowly,
ever so slowly,
cooking our brains?

do you remember that?

it was just before you went
to the post office, (to get some money,
you said) but while you were in there,
you told everyone i had shot you dead.

did you say i killed you with my mind bullets,
inflicting a fatal wound, while i cooked your breakfast?

and after you told everyone i had killed you
did you come back and eat that breakfast?

use it or lose it

'arry spider is doing your chores
with his long, helpful tentacles
dressing your suppurating sores
in zinc bandages.
when they amputate your leg
he will push your wheelchair
(your flat is already accessible).
he will hold a service of remembrance,
perhaps he will release 99
red balloons in the air?
99 messages of condolence;
saying your leg lived life to the full,
meaning your leg is dead
before its fortieth birthday,
99 donations to the charity of absent
minds and broken hearts (sponsored
by Carling), 5 times 99 toasts,
one to each missing metatarsal.

let's get the long handled  lump hammer
out the back of the van and start smashing things up.
our father calls it Eli, he says,
at least when Eli's finished,
though nothing is certain,
everything certainly will be new,
and 'arry spider will be crouching
in the dust, choking on the splinters,
squirming beneath the heel
of your well healed foot.

dawn

what ever happened that summer
before we started smoking,
when we stopped being ones
and started being more than twos?
we were still climbing trees then.
i thought you would be my best
friend forever, who else would run
in the woods with me? laughing.
when we went back in September
i remember we all had our hair
cut properly, gone the awkward
fringes, like we just knew the story,
what was wrong with our parents,
how to get stares off boys
how to wear eyeliner.
we walked in the middle of the road
uncupped from our mothers
and i remember watching you lock
up your bike, and i waved goodbye.