Even dry

Even dry

Without a nip

Or the smell of an aged cask

It is easier to hold onto the sofa

Than a skeleton bob

On the Cresta run.

My mother said

“Masturbation is dirty.

It will make you go blind.”

I wear glasses

But my imagination runs wild,

Further than the broken

Street light on the corner

Outside the public house

With three long windows

The words Saloon,

Lounge and Snug

Etched into each one,

Shadows dance

Across the panes

As old people sing

“We’ll meet again.”

The smell of beer and cigarettes

Wafting out as heavy as a cloud

Of carbon monoxide

Barely less than lethal.

Tower blocks

Hang onto the earth

Like drunks

Aware of their mortality

Leering down out of a dirty sky

Pretending they are worthy

When they are a blot on morality

And have lost more in sorrow

Than a chocolate teapot,

There is always another tragedy

Waiting to happen.

From a distance street lights

Twinkle

A Polar Bear looks cuddly

There is deceit

In a passing glance.

Every transaction

Is an opportunity to reveal

Character

With each sip

Of a loving cup

Vision dims to the point

I can see no further

Than my mind’s eye

Which

On occasion, is far enough.