What Human Cost? The Mid life Crisis

Well, there it is. The mid life crisis has arrived. Snuck in, under the radar, largely unobserved until it jumped up and yelled ‘Up yours, sister!’ right in my face. There I was, happily trundling along, agreeing to this, happy with that, “yes dear, it’ll be an adventure!’ I said. “Why not? We’re a long time dead” I said. ‘J.F.D.I.’ I said.

More fool me.

Her name is uttered last thing at night and first thing in the morning. She has become the sole topic of conversation. She dines at our table, whistles in our bathroom, and, well, she, ahem, “hangs about” in the bedroom. The onslaught is complete; she’s moved right in, lock, stock and pretty rounded barrel of a bottom. And never mind her bottom, apparently, her “arches are delightfully curvaceous” and she has the “shiniest, silveriest, wide eyed look” you could imagine.

That’s not enough for her, however. Not content with merely stealing away those ‘penny for them?’ moments, every long stare into the middle distance becomes hers, every interaction, whether minor or highly significant is diverted to her cause. I suspect she is even invading dream space. Dare I ask? I dare not.  Instead I determine to identify my advantages. They are these: Distraction, preoccupation and blinkered vision. What better time to gain agreement on those truly important issues, those previously impossible to pin down questions? Surely, the time is now. What about that new handbag? Can we get tickets for Bowie at the V&A? I think there must be some musicals to be seen…

Yes, for sure, there is a human cost to the mid life crisis. It’s my job to ensure a good, old fashioned, financial cost too.

And So It Is With Cake

With pounding heart, my cautious tongue

Tests your sweetness on my lips.

And greedily I draw it in

As if the hours, the days, the weeks I spent,

When I lived and breathed, as others do

With not one solitary thought of you,

Had never been.

And if I could I would devour

Every tiny honeyed crumb.

As many and as much I may,

As if the smiles, the joy, the love I felt

When I sighed and swooned, as lovers do,

With not one fleeting fear of you,

Had never been.

My hastily but lovingly constructed tribute to MrWordsworth and his M'lady

In days of old, before freezies were cold,
And Slushies were not yet invented,
Some bright spark, showed Lisa to Mark,
And relations were soon cemented.

Sexhaustion

lark flys
bleary eyes
morning sun
hard rise

short sighs
part thighs
having fun!
sexercise


spread thickly
crunchy pickly
midday sun
cheese and prickly

touch tickly
sweet, sticky
having fun
lunchtime quickie


high teas
buns squeeze
evening sun
trembling knees

birds ‘n’ bees
bosom heaves
having fun...
bread and sleaze


conversation
consummation
setting sun
intoxication

large portion
abandon caution
having fun?
sexhaustion

Shoe Shine

An unremarkable grey man kneels before a wooden chair. The in-congruence hadn’t struck me until now. The chair, edges warm and smoothed from years of use. His clothes, clean but worn, a workers clothes. A blackened, stiff leather pinafore covers his chest and thighs. It ties around his still slender waist, and moves in opposition to his strong shoulders as they flex and roll with every movement. He kneels before a suited businessman, the dull, polish soaked pinafore grazes the highly polished municipal granite floor. The backdrop is a sheer, darkly tinted glass scraper. It dominates the scene from every angle, until your eyes return to the unremarkable grey man.

Don't Speak

Soothe me

When my heart out shouts my head

Feel me

Let my limbs entrap yours

Don’t speak

Hold me

As I curve my spine into your torso

Caress me

Where your touch sears my core

Don’t speak

Trust me

As I take you into myself

Soar with me

As your being becomes mine

Breathe my name