Spoonbridge and Cherry at the Opening of a Toilet

By | 1 September 2023

It was JB’s birthday, everyone was there but her ex, who I most wanted to see,
half-empty crystal glasses littering the table where confident guests circled
holding the half-full, the slosh of constant conversation, gesticulations,
moles, gold, you said to me I just love tonight, it’s the best night of my life
and I adored the overstatement because I’m always on your side, I said
Mine too though it came off as eager because I’m usually unsophisticated,
wish I was ten years older or younger than I am right now.

HK entered the room, the only one wearing a three-piece suit, and Lady B
was smoking cigarillos from a fancy silver flip-top case, twitching her nose
and scratching her leg – Do the streets feel like conveyor belts?
Do you miss your mother? What was the name of that album with the guy
holding the head of cabbage?
– you reached into the volcano
of meatballs, flicked your wrist at the gherkins, cocked a brow
as Triple Threat scooped nuts from a bowl shaped like a penis and told us
she’d been to the sea, Just look at my tan! but she’s partial to make-up
that lightens her complexion, so yeah, when she walked away
in her red jumpsuit I thought of that giant cherry and spoon sculpture
in the city where my mother grew up; I do miss her, since you asked.

You were scanning, scanning, you’re always scanning, you once told me
you viewed the world as miniature snapshots sewn together with fine thread
then projected as a silent movie, Last night I crawled into bed at seven
o’clock and slept until nine this morning
, I told you I was streaming
a documentary series and you said Oh I know, it can be so hard, the music
grew too loud for me to hear what you said next but when you nodded
toward the shirtless man throwing olives in the air then catching them
one by one in his mouth, I understood completely, half-thoughts
and absinthe shots, you said I’ll start craving milk around noon tomorrow
and I said, surprising you by touching your arm, That’s a marvellous idea for a poem.

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