I just saw a pair of black panties atop a seat pedal passed my window view as if I didn't care
when in fact I do
enough to note it here and now
to let all those who might take thew time to read my words, that echo my thoughts, that are a response to my world
which seems so big and yet is as small as it could be
when before it seemed so big without thinking about it
when behaviour must have limited me to a den
where iniquity was around and about
and about was as close as you'd come to a meaning
to a pair of black panties skating on ice
thinly veiled as a safe place to venture
locking you down and into something you might regret were you able to think that far
as far was distant
and time didn't speed like light
and quick was what your eyes had to be to even glimpse Heaven being pedalled by.






If only they were 50 years younger but loved me just as much as they do in their age
a bevy of Nannas cheering me on for deeds of kindness.







I can see her bra through her shirt
and if I wait and she leans the right way I might spy more.
I might spy her slope of Heaven as it leans away from her shoulder to be cupped just so in silken comfort.

Slipping passed did I notice how small her bum looked in those
that must have been chosen for just that effect
to stun
and then to kindle dirty thoughts
of how her hair hung down.

She shares her space with another
both clamouring to be hospitable to a mere me.







Close your eyes after your giggle as I flashed a joke at you
that no-one else saw
or would even get if they did
as if it's special between us.
The things I know and can dream over
the things I don't that I can invent and find satisfaction in
when I was "The man with the plan"
and she was drunk enough to cheat
while he hung on for dear life and realised what he had.









She wasn't good looking enough to need to duck into the chemist for condoms
tampons she'd need as a matter of course
but my truth would hurt her to her face about her lack of elegance
her dumpy
almost like a woman me.
But she could never be that hungry
as I am
as I ate and ate.

Was I satisfied?
The cranial chemicals mixed in my blood with the food in my gut to tell me " How the fuck would I know"?
"Let it settle over coffee"

While their two bottles of wine went home empty
his bad habits the habits of the darker of us when the fairer of us is concerned
and even the youngest of them have grown a camel-toe that they can push forward in all innocence as if they don't know.

Away from the violence love has bloomed for two unchallenged
before I'd seen his kind assailed with threats of "Kung Fu" over Cold Rock ice cream
with more mates than the White Pages could fill a life with
all drunk with patriotism and the certainty that they'd be safe with the world watching on, guarding their backs against defeat.

Through the town
though too early to be called going out even if out plenty were
them the normal ones enjoying sundown and grog in company
the "social lube" it's called that gets a smile from the hardened who'd inked up my arm
that mother can't see
though I'm sure she's not blind.
While another form of blindness struck him that staggered across the traffic
as he swayed
and swayed back
then found the arrow as permission to cross when the button was needed.

Now I hear songs that sing of the drink
as if it's necessary
like their claims on the Poet
as if to be requires more than words in form
as if the claim in general is not the ego tripping
when all it brings is trouble and doubt regardless of how noble the precedent might be.

A wise man doubts the sincerity of Judas as he kisses her away from his memory with the lips of another

Her phone sits warming against a breast that's intent on slipping into view because she under-dressed it again
it hides behind a tissue that might clean up his mess from her chin
or just wipe away a nose as my fantasy flies off at the handle.
Different fantasies now to the one she'd been warned against at 3 in the morning
me a staggering stranger finally home from the war.
As if words can kill
when bullets are found to be far more effective.

And by now she's probably found a taker for her condoms
the inebriated not known for their fuss
and when it's over her she's happy and in love for a time
and won't complain if time doesn't last beyond tomorrow
beyond the chorus of the last song on her favourite cd to be in love to.

I'm sure the singer just called me a "Bastard" but I've misheard lyrics before and thought they conveyed words I'd never found for myself
words they obviously never understood with me in mind
because we were so young
and things should just have happened like they do in movies instead of needing room in which to grow
room in which to be private in such a public way
where we all know the ending before it happens
and the silence comes because the song is over,