Don’t pick up hitch-hikers

Whether at high noon

Or covered in red petals and blood

Dreaming of American skies

 

Trusted positions to make you relax

Be careful not to mention the Karma Sutra

Or a mobile phone will ring

Or a bluebird sing

 

Basildon bonds & lined paper

Snowflakes fall between the lines, melting

 

Oh Walter, dear husband of mine

Stiff as a board, I find my body

 

She sleeps to dream of throwing ashes in anger

Yoga connections to Kama Sutra

 

Yoga made me smile

And giggle please don’t

Ask me why?

 

A nomadic wife heard on a breath

Shady, shady sugar

The stunning colours glare at me

He was mad and out of line each day

Until he says goodbye in human pasta meat.