The Moon Follows Me

The Moon has followed me
For a number of years.

I feel very lucky to have had it along with me on
Long train journeys. It stares at me
Through windows, not looking where it's going.

I think it's because, when I hold up my thumb,
My nail fits perfectly into its smiling crescent.
We fit together.

It hovers over me like a hummingbird when I sleep.
Still and timeless.
Comforting.

It must be hard work pulling the tide or
Making werewolves or
Whatever it is that celestial bodies do.
So it's strange that it picked little old me to follow.

I suppose we understand each other.

Conker Season

The beginning of Autumn in the early 90s
We would walk home from school through Sandfield Park
Where the rich people lived.
Stab the end of a stick through a fallen husk
And then take aim at the great conker trees leaning
Over the fence.

See one that you want and throw the stick.
A hit! But it remains.
Then one falls. A miracle.
Who's stick was it as they would claim?
A spiky ball clips the leaves, landing on the ground
Behind the fence, where the rich kids played.
It was theirs.
As it always will be.

One season I sorted through my haul.
Seventeen conkers to string
And take to school.
Some would crack as Dad put holes through,
They had such potential, lost.

This year they all had faltered in the first game
Except for one.
It was small with a flattened side.
Lighter in colour, threaded with a black shoelace
And single knot.

No treatments; see-through nail varnish, 6 months in the loft, paint.
Just a champion.
A seasoner.

People noticed me and I played to them.
Spinning the champion around faster and faster,
Demanding challengers.
It hit the wall behind me. Cracked.

The challengers came quickly

Just Another Day

Today I lost myself

This has happened a few times before.

I forgot who I am and what makes me,

I fell out of myself at the door.

I watched as I was manic,

Selfish with time and attention.

I cringed as I listened intently

To my lack of sincere intention.

With or at? At or with?

A spectacle or experience shared?

I’ll say something else as always,

Too afraid to not be heard.

Then manic gives way to loathing.

“In their eyes, a cartoon I’ve become!”

I want to show them I’m real

But my real will be boring to some.

At home I’m honestly me

But there I’m old and tired.

She deserves those men in the stories-

They're interesting and inspired.

It’s just another day

Tomorrow will be better or worse.

Maybe the same will happen.

For her, I’m becoming a curse.

The night train

Sat on the night train
Just my pen and regrets again.
When I get home I just hope you're awake.
I ran to the station
A peculiar sensation
That not seeing you in days is making me break.

I rehearse what I might say
That, "this is the last day
I'll let anybody take me from you."
But you and I both know
That soon I'll have to go.
Why it's like this I haven't a clue.

I should have been there
When we had that last scare.
It wasn't my choice, but I chose I suppose.
You're fine and that thrills me.
You were scared and that kills me.
The last lost moments go where nobody knows.

Remember that jigsaw?
And the dusty old flat floor?
We laughed and talked until morning came.
This time when I tried
With my immature pride
I ruined the night worrying it wasn't the same.

These days I'm not sure
Of who I was before
Time and again I just fall back down.
But please, please believe me
That the thing that you can't see
Is me loving you means I won't drown.