one for DTW. . .

You always were one for mermaids
it was in the family:
     economic dealings
     with other dimensions
     the sand beneath
     its contents
the first time I dismantled
my bike bell as a kid
I gained a sense of
the precariousness
of reversibility
I like to think you were hopelessly drawn
to Rachmaninov's second
in The Seven Year Itch
sipping Glenfiddich
from a broad based glass
     far from the vast affordable light
     of Whitstable beach
     of Reculver Towers clipped into place
pivoted by the careering sway of the 5.50 to Victoria
these days you are mainly
catching tides of dream
     a life of lost sleep
where half-awake images
populate patches in the script
yet never quite punch a hole right through
to where I'm squatting in the April sun
     on the sea wall
     beside the tracks
the trip-wire pings back into place
I wriggle slowly into your shoes

Maegate         April 2008