Poem: Supermarket Thrills
We thought we would stay that way forever,
young, energetic, full of dreams.
Instead, here we are carrying shopping bags,
climbing the hill, slightly out of breath.
The battle lines are drawn around our eyes,
the sins we never believed would catch up with us,
catching up with us.
There’s this point where the green meets blue stretches,
and we pause, lamentably drunk on memory, our experiences lost to Time.
Poem: Miss Martin
This dark and dismal weather makes me think of you,
with your long-pulled face and your cracks and your lines,
your evil cackle as you turned the keys, there,
in the small of my back as I stood in the dinner queue.
I thought of you, rude obnoxious spinster,
out of the blue, while vacuuming the living room.
I’ve no idea why, but oh! How time flies
and I’m no longer 16 in 1983, no longer dying inside.
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