Sunday, April 01, 2007

A Park Bench Story

The sky spits out a silver flash-
the Apocalypse winks at me!
-this is last week
when I couldn’t got to work
I just couldn’t
I am a BURNT fool on IDIOT fire,
the Apocalypse winking at me!

I am sat in the park
my head is in my hands
I am lost in clichés
and I say
my head in my hands

I am watching the squirrels-
and their simple park lives,
and I am vowing
to sit in parks more often
and then
the Apocalypse is winking at me!
it splits the sky-
in a blinding burst of white-
I say
and blink my eyes on the bench
startled like a bunny

it is Friday the 13th
when the Apocalypse winks at me!
-this is last week
when I couldn’t get out of bed
I just couldn’t
I am in bunker mentality
denying mortality obviously
when the Apocalypse winks at me!

I am on a train into Bank
and then I am sat on museum steps
not knowing if I am cold or not,
I am reading a free paper
and I watch people
meet each other,
I watch people
say goodbye to each other,
they do it with hugs kisses sweet pauses
for each other,
they are dressed
in good shirts
and work skirts
they probably bought together,
and they don’t know
that the Apocalypse winks at me!

I meet a girl there
and we say hello to each other,
I am kissing her cheek
and we smile with each other,
I am taking her underground to a bar
to sit on the sofas and talk to each other,
I am trying to forget
that the Apocalypse winked at me earlier!
and when
she is going
to where
I told her
the toilet was
she finds only more bars. . .

I am thinking
this all very nice together. . .
like Sean Bean
I always die all rubbish
in early scenes in a leather
-this is maybe because
the Apocalypse winks at me!

we are sitting in a corner
on a sofa
that’s busted
and hard
and comfy
and dusty,
she had collapsed into it
a pixie subdued by a cold,
she is sipping
a small glass of red wine chilled,
she is tucking her legs up
and her excellent hips look at me
with their bones . . .

I am telling her
how comfy
she always looks to me
when she’s on any chair
when she’s in any home
when she’s pretend sleeping on any short sofa
when she’s standing
neatly waiting
for her granny bus to come
I don’t tell her about the Apocalypse
how it winks at me!

Ford Dagenham

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