Standing there like stranger at a bar

There are three Irish fairies

Tied together

Which clearly want to go home,

 

Three football figures

Of now retired Spanish footballers

And two pigs

Both of which I am convinced

Are odd little jokes

Friends got for me travelling,

 

A Edward Sissorhands figure

Which I accidentally nicked

At a bookshop in Brighton

And which I am too

Embarrassed to return

 

A tiny Cadburys Chocolate Van

Which is more years older

Than I know

That my Uncle gave me

A week before he died

And has followed me

Through three addresses since

(And four removal vans)

 

An Indian goddess

That I have no memory off

And am half convinced

appeared on-top

of my bookcase

almost by magic,

 

a Kabuki figure

which keeps falling

down the back

no matter what I do

leaving me thinking

it’s a ninja in disguise

really,

 

Pebbles picked up

From Poole Beach

At last 15 years ago

Which my then

Girlfriend

Said was a heart stone

And would give me

Endless luck,

 

Pens that ran out

Of ink years ago

Writing bad poetry

 

And now Shift uncomfortably

With each footstep

Wondering whether

I would throw them out

Like a bad afterthought

 

Or tinker with the order

Like members of

A rock band

Replacing each other

 

Brazen in the shadows

In forgotten

holes of memories

 

Running through

Imaginary fingers of my hair

Every time I look at them

 

Naked through journeys

Away from myself

And into time.