Gourmet & Light

I like the crispy duck
Because I like the crispy duck
I am here alone
Why else would I like the duck

I am looking forward to the chow-mien
Because I can try to use chopsticks
I am here alone
Why wouldn’t I try something new

I thought I might watch the day disappear
Because of being on the cusp
I am here alone
Why not enjoy the mysteries of dusk

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Workday

The five bar gate leans out and over
Pulling at the barbed wire fence; these
Are the big fields, of Norfolk & Suffolk

A lament plays on the car stereo
Good times appear to be on the water
Where was I five minutes ago

I didn’t then know
Of the garden centre cafe
And the rows and rows of weedkiller

This restaurant I have been to before
But not alone, not alone in the early evening
Before the jovial ‘out for a good time’ diners arrive

I wonder at the decor, it’s neat, professional
The whole place sparkles and appears well run
Unlike the downbeat town where I fear to walk

Yet what connects me to the orient; I have never
Been there, I never really desired to; yet I’m eating
A chow-mien duck special, and reading Murakami

Becoming immersed in his hyper realisations
Joining him in streets, on trains, in temples
Thats as close as I’ve been; yet I’m almost ahead

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Break in Service

A camper, or a canal boat, or a caravan
To go places in confined spaces
Finding out, just who on earth I am

An iPod, or a laptop, or a roaming internet plan
To write letters to my so-called betters
Pointing out, the beauty wherever I can

Usherettes & launderettes & Kingdoms of Bhutan
To refresh our vests, and impress the rest
I hoped you’d halfway understand

That there is a decorum, a standard for this man
Who missed the introduction to love, but
Who tries to make up, to head off a lifetime ban

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Costa

I have found a place by the entrance
A good draught blows over my shoulder
The cake is Granola, yet
I am still embraced by Yorkshire air

Your jeans may also be tattered at the
Bottoms; we are all getting older
I will buy the crayfish & rocket
For high tea in my hotel room

This part of my lifetime, spent
In cafes, hotels and service-stations
Contributed to my downfall, in matters
Of health, and in affairs of the heart

In recompense it now offers me my writing
The opportunity to observe, the chance
To sip my coffee more slowly; I am
In no hurry, do not rush to reply

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Balcony

I have moved
Into the outdoor sunlight
There is a pleasantly cool breeze
School children gather on the grass

I have a view
A tree covered in catkins
Taut wires
That act as a barrier

I can hear the wagons, or
Maybe they are tractors
Moving up the hill
Out of my line of sight

The young teachers eat cake
Already they look dismayed
At the prospect of a lifetime
Of saying don’t do that

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