Winter CV
cold orange the frost
on brittle grass
waking these days
& then ghosts & then money
opening the eyes
is like the cartilage pop
of a stiff joint
a neat drink
or whatever we need
to face the cold
& when I saw her
after the interview
(dull bronze) (a corporate plaza)
her eyes were retinal black
& wired reflecting the world
and the strain
when she said "I've had enough
of this year
first I lose my job
then you bomb my home
I hate them, the shits."
that she wants to
fight for this when light
is a memory the shriek of wind
over concrete the competition
for spaces in winter my friend
we are (always) deranged
3 Drug Mambo
1
no it's not salt it's
sugar but who told you
to put it in the pill when
you sell it on I'm not saying
it will be murder but there
is such a thing as bad
mouthing false economy
& they're not exactly fucking happy
with the results.
here now. dogs wait.
I steal your drugs.
2
my friend the dog he
walked out that night &
I didn't hear from him
later news came as
the magazine articles he
would use to wrap the speed
strictly small time on
the late night film the tv
lights the room blue
when it closed down
what else is there?
3
grew it in his shed
small town small
problem anyway who could
really blame us? even
when it was boring
I knew that we were
maverick in carpark
dealings it was
always your money
trust is the lick
of sugar on the pill
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