From my second storey room
up at Eddie’s I hear the kids
screaming over at the park
across the street, squeezing out
the pulp of the summer holidays.
Through a thin stripe between
the cigar-brown curtains the sky
is darkening, but I can only imagine
the world as puzzled together
from random sounds, peopled by
grown-ups on blood-pressure pills
bumping their tidy cars at twenty
along the ruts of the avenue.
Gulls yack the shore in over
the rooftops. Somewhere near
there will be waves throwing up
the ocean onto a dog-walker’s
beach, waiting like idiots for
the mood to reveal itself.
My bed creaks out a lullaby
on its springs every time I move.
I’d lose my mind if I could only
remember where I’d left it.
first published in Stickman Review, 2018