SMART PHONE

by coincidence I suppose 
(though who knows)
on the thirteenth anniversary 
today some algorithm suggested I add 
you to my most trusted network 
not as yet able to know
(I'm sure they'll get there)
that you have been these many long years dead
that I keep you on my contact list 
only because I'm an ageing man
secretly a little fearful of forgetfulness 
who wants still to keep in touch
with the better part of himself
however tenuous 
who will not be infantilised 

too much of this too much of that
couldn't quite make it through the valley of death
late fifties fond of a drink bad diet no exercise etc
you'd laugh if you only heard the start of it 
heart attack in bed with a heavy duty woman
I punched your coffin in anger as I passed it
declaiming all that stuff at your groovy funeral
but to die in bed with someone
too stoned to find the door or call an ambulance 
is definitely shortening the odds
afterwards there was the quiet spin
massive - nothing anybody could've done
who knows

strait the gate and narrow the way
much narrowed too the coronary artery 

right at at the back a woman in a red leather beret
howled like a wolf all through my eulogy 
afterwards I tried to find her but I couldn't 
she hurried away or maybe took the red beret off
when she got outside because she knew
I couldn't identify her without the beret
it's a trick to remember if you're a cop or a criminal 
wear something bright and distinctive 
turn a corner and take the bright distinctive thing off
et voila you're invisible or at least unidentifiable 

I think it's why we can't identify what's important in our life 
it changes clothes 
love in mufti can look like a kind of tetchiness

think the implacable advance of stillness 
immobility
after the call I turned the tv off
and stared at it for (I don't know) an hour or so
then walked outside
only when I looked up at the dancing stars
did I realise I was crying
and if I could've reached up and throttled those bloody stars
I would have

he shivers in the cold night air
thinks of his own fragile heart
the muscle’s memory of pain
deliberately inhales deeply
to feel the coldness in his chest
then walks back
as he gets to the door 
the phone in his breast pocket pings
and for a split second he thinks
you devious bastard
what a fucking stupid practical joke
but no

I wonder how many at the end say
let's go round again
I think I've got the hang of it now 

I wanted to put it on a t shirt
everything could be otherwise
I took a long time deciding between can and could
but if I used can
I'd be trapped in a philosophical hall of mirrors 
reflecting the gordian gnot of grammar 
because we know we have all sorts of options before the fact
but only ever before the fact
so the t shirt should say
everything could have been otherwise but it never is
not pithy I know
and illustrates a sense of nostalgia 
for a past full of futures with no pasts
maybe

(the commentators press around the writer
murmuring into their microphones
this is a tense moment near the end
whispers one)

so anyway one after another
the kids poke their heads around the door
what's the old man doing all this time
he's thinking about modal verbs
and some guy he knew who died like ages ago
before we were even born
oh



DE JURE NEW YEAR

how then has this thing come to pass
clean cups saucers cake bright spoons rattling by the kettle
the comforting sounds of a vacuum upstairs
once in bare rooms beneath bare bulbs broke
hugging our knees waiting for someone to come up with a plan
how come this steady accretion (so much bloody stuff!)
the regularly delivered cases of wine the single malts
once grinning round a stolen bottle of transit vin rough

fortunate old despisers of the sentimental three quarters out the door
untouched by war pestilence insurmountable poverty
beyond life's inherent griefs
restless still as the unstill sea is restless
understanding that it's always a damn close run thing
on a planet with no moral dimension
do your best if you can discern it - but be lucky