one for DTW. . .
You always were one for mermaids
it was in the family:
economic dealings
with other dimensions
water
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