luckiest bird in the night

dawdling between yesterday and the day before
i was fished from my contemplation of dozing
by the trill of some idiot bird

clearly nobody facebooked it
about the whole
"only singing in daylight"
thing.

The White Flash

we have all the time in the
world
?

Modeselektor/Thom Yorke

fuck curiosity, stupid imagination

it was all i could do to twist it
all green and gauche like a party balloon
into something that resembled a daisy
rather than a dagger
(stab stab stab
i tripped and fell again and again)

all it means is
that you fell
and he jumped after you.

but the ground rushes to meet us
no slower for it

i just don't know what to do with myself

and drowning in all this goodwill towards mankind
my words desert me like the last air bubbles
sparkling gleefully towards the surface like children
exempted from their dinner greens.

my garret-pallor drains away in my post-coital shower
swirling round the tiles
with the nicotine and imaginary cellulite -
whoever heard of a writer with a healthy, radiant glow?

i must misunderstand something he murmurs
dye my shiny hair a tangled, plate-hurling red
go a week without him
soak my tongue in wine
sleep hours shorter
wake up longing
dinner for one again -

all this comfort is so awkward.

life the universe and everything

what a ludicrous world

in which
LUSTED
nets me only seven points

and QI
which means nothing
gives him 42.

clearly my ideas
of Life
the Universe
and Everything

have been
very badly awry
these last weeks.

it will do for now, anyway

we fit like other people do
i suppose
flawed and perfect
our exclusive young affection
warm and hazy in our winter morningafter
skin and flesh and sweat and tiny hairs
layered close together, sharing quiet words
like neighbouring pages:

"i'm still not sure how this works."
"never mind, beautiful -
by the time we figure it out
it won't be our place to know things like that."