The Conflict

rain falls in two parts–
want and
don’t want

(or an epic struggle between lawn-mower and beer on the deck)

as I feel when you care
or politicians do although
you must know they don’t

care for anything beyond the wastelands of the public purse
but / but / but

this is a thought about how we drink coffee on the deck
and the sun is rising against the other side of the house–

at eight in the morning
we half-finished the newspaper somewhere
between births and ads
I stretch for the comics

and you ask for the daily menu of events (daybook still
thought dishevelled by a lack of place)
I already in afternoon

and knowing which wine I want with dinner
which television I don’t want as the last light is flicked off
like a dream
onrye/holdthemayo/and damnthetorpedoes

racing for the future while the past
seems still so very quite a serviceable tool