A poem about someone who has lost their greatest love in a road accident.
BAILAMOS
Singing in a darkly cold alleyway,
Wet with rain and rubbish, I sit.
A stupid star is shining its light on my darkness. Go away.
Come back another day to be a hero, but not today.
Did the one who made us, come here?
Is that one looking at me from one of those stars?
I look up. I look sideways. I wish I hadn't looked.
The phenomenal intensity of the wave
Of troubling question marks on me...I heed. So...
I sit and mean to do nothing beyond
What the others have achieved.
Affix my cold fingers into my leather jacket.
Off onto the world. Make it to the street.
The dim and compact security light stares
like an ass waiting to be slapped.
The wind blows. I taste its direction.
And smell its coldness. So I wrench up my face.
And a drop of mucus drops satisfyingly onto the pavement.
Why the hell can't we just have tracks?
I wonder at these things and I feel like taking a spade
And digging up the black concrete road. Kill it. Murder.
I know I cannot do it
And I fall to my knees.
Put my eyebrows onto the wet coldness and hard treacle.
Swallow my chewing gum.
I wonder about me lying here and her lying there.
And I wonder why.
October 1999,
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