...

All I wanted to do, was sit with you,
create absurd worlds of moving sausage rolls
in smoke-filled telescopic bells and timps
n’ pot-flops of sound.  
I could have kept you warm day after day
after day after day after day. Apart from the
23rd of May 1058 when I’m supposed to be
buying a Bulgarian bulrush.
You told me once that your feet and your hands
and your body do get somewhat very cold,
that you’re cold-blooded, as they say.  
I could have wrapped beads and branches of
myself around you whenever you wanted.
Anytime. All the time. In shops, on buses,
in the middle of the street, down where lamps
appear to light our way to the road we ort to gop.
I would have stopped the traffic of tyranny
to keep you warm…. If you would have wanted
me to that is. The trouble is I don’t think you
want me to. Anyway none of what I’m writing
will ever get to you. I shall just put it in a box
with other bits of my heart which I’ve put aside
for you. I’m sure there’s more to come, till I
know your not walking down the streets I’m
too familiar with anyway. Probably not though.   

I was told not to bother with you. That every film-
night, and event that gets put on, there are always
men around you. Trying to grab your tension.  
I see pictures of you at these places. You never
look happy. When snow was around you said I
make you happy. I was happy. The luckiest man on
the planet I say, to get one kiss from you. You fell
asleep on me in a bar after you had been working.
You had to leave though. I was then the saddest
man on the planet. We should still be there.
I could have got a job at that bar. I could have
come across and held you in-between serving people.
B*$!@*ds is all I can say. I blame it on early April.
One year and bit ago. I’ve just sent a kiss to you.  
Hope it finds you.

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