People always think...

 'People always think that they know other people, but they don't. Not really. I mean, maybe they know things about them, like they won't eat doughnuts or they like action movies or whatever. But they don't know what their friends do in their rooms alone at night or what happened to them when they were kids or if they feel fucked up and sad for no reason at all'

Bitch- Carolyn Kizer

Bitch

BY CAROLYN KIZER

Now, when he and I meet, after all these years,

I say to the bitch inside me, don’t start growling.   

He isn’t a trespasser anymore,

Just an old acquaintance tipping his hat.

My voice says, “Nice to see you,”

As the bitch starts to bark hysterically.

He isn’t an enemy now,

Where are your manners, I say, as I say,

“How are the children? They must be growing up.”   

At a kind word from him, a look like the old days,   

The bitch changes her tone; she begins to whimper.   

She wants to snuggle up to him, to cringe.

Down, girl! Keep your distance

Or I’ll give you a taste of the choke-chain.

“Fine, I’m just fine,” I tell him.

She slobbers and grovels.

After all, I am her mistress. She is basically loyal.   

It’s just that she remembers how she came running   

Each evening, when she heard his step;

How she lay at his feet and looked up adoringly   

Though he was absorbed in his paper;

Or, bored with her devotion, ordered her to the kitchen   

Until he was ready to play.

But the small careless kindnesses

When he’d had a good day, or a couple of drinks,

Come back to her now, seem more important

Than the casual cruelties, the ultimate dismissal.

“It’s nice to know you are doing so well,” I say.

He couldn’t have taken you with him;

You were too demonstrative, too clumsy,

Not like the well-groomed pets of his new friends.   

“Give my regards to your wife,” I say. You gag

As I drag you off by the scruff,

Saying, “Goodbye! Goodbye! Nice to have seen you again.” 

Ghosts

Reminiscing about Halls

Today I miss halls: the guys from Jamie FC, Frying pan cricket, Panos, Jon Jon, the cat we called Tuna, Mike, the 50 chicken nugget night, cheese throwing, the night where 'It didn't fucking hurt but it could have', when Chris hid under my bed, the gravy granule shower, the casual everyday frape, the day when rice went everywhere, bed in shower, the German shots, mud on chin day, Steff's birthday chunder, the weir, Kieran eating his change, Kirrrsty, when their tongues touched on THAT photo, floor chip, 'Hey Tom it's security', METROS, Squi and Frank, the fancy dress, the chinese man, the gates, 'merry fuckmas' and 'is that my jacket!', the missing vibrator, the alarm in the lift, snow day, the lizard, the hospital visit, Iris the ironing board, mushroom, 'you spill it you lick it', chunderbox, oh hey cricket match day, football sunny pub crawl, the end of the year tradition.

We had fun.

Homesick

Kings of Convenience

Fighting

You say he'll be fine
and he's in the best place
but
I have eyes.
I see exactly what is happening,
and I can feel him slipping away.
You keep asking how I am.
Isn't it obvious?
I know you're trying to help
but right now I don't want to chat,
I don't want crappy coffee from that stupid machine
and everytime you hug me you're making it worse.
I'm not being fair
but indulge me, just for now.
I'm fighting cause he's stopped,
I'm angry at the world,
not at you.

Man At The Bus Stop

Sat alone at the bus stop
seemingly lost in bittersweet memories
shivering in your thin woolen jumper.

Eyes closed under heavy rimmed glasses
I look at your hands clasped together over your thin stomach.
Loose, wrinkled skin,
dark patches,
blue veins standing proud.

I try to imagine you young.
Thick dark hair, big white smile,
a petite brunette linked
with your muscular arms.

But the image fades as soon as it arrives.
The small white haired man before me is all I can see.


I feel naive, ashamed and young.
The lines etched on your face
tell tales I will never know,
though I wish I could.