Out of the Rain

We ran down the high street and into the pub,
as we cheated the rain that fell from above,
dodging the puddles that had formed on the floor.
Such a beautiful day for a nuclear war.

You draped your wet coat on the back of your chair,
We emptied our drinks. The rain dripped from your hair.
A Guinness. A whiskey. Then I went back for more.
What a beautiful day for a nuclear war.

We talked. Pop songs. First pets. Favourite film stars.
We flicked pistachio shells into a jar.
You tried not to yawn. You must have thought me a bore.
It was a beautiful day for a nuclear war.

The days have changed now but I keep that one apart.
I carry it with me, tattooed on my heart.
The Guinness. Your wet hair. The dress that that you wore.
Such a beautiful day for a nuclear war.

CTRL ALT-RIGHT DEL

The world lurches, a violent SHIFT
the RETURN of Nazis to our streets.
But do not let it get you ⬇,
press CTRL ALT → DEL.

Fascism should serve no Fn.
It’s an ugly BACKSPACE into history.
We must be > the hatred,
to ESC we have the key.

Keep ⇄ upon intolerance.
Send racism into retreat.
To END hate, we need to INSERT love
and press CTRL ALT → DEL.

The White House

They’re redecorating the White House
in washed-out tones of white,
Moon Shimmer and Frosted Dawn,
Rock Salt and Morning Light.

Bleached Lichen in the kitchen.
The bedrooms – White Mist’s the plan.
The Oval Office is Absolute White.
All painted by the Du Lux Klan.

Remembrance Of Things Pasta

She blew her fusilli,
my pretty penne,

when she found me watching
daytime tagliatelle.

Je ne spaghetti rien,
I responded in song,

but she did not linguini
for long,

just walked out
without further retort:

a hard lesson to be tortellini,
orzo I thought.

And so here I am
on my macaroni

and now my days
feel cannelloni.