‘if ‘ for Raymond Chandler

‘if I had a gun to her back she couldn’t,
wouldn’t, stand by me.’


love is a foreign dream for her…words, bought presents but not a ‘presence’ in a real, hurtful moment.

a hurtful moment? what is a hurtful moment?

when you find out that a loved, a loved one,

one who is now both unfaithful &


when they hurt you…without prayerful listening.
when there is no human touch
when she does not hear; listen; trust or believe

or he

hurt, not healing
death, not life
in their unfaithfulness

can you, just stop hurting me? that is my prayer

You can’t; so



on the Northern line

on the Northern line

to older women in light, coloured jumpers,

to the older woman in the lightly covering jumper on just
your shoulders in July

your body is cooling, dying in London’s July heat as the ancient King David, he at least was given a beautiful virgin to keep him warm, he had an Abishag, a ‘very beautiful girl; she took care of the king and waited on him, but the king had no intimate relations with her.’

did you ever think that you would be so cold in July on the tube, without a lover’s hand, their eye, to caress and warm you?

the two young blondes women to your right and
your left have no jump-

they sit
-one in a white light sleeveless top, the other in a black tank top, both have their eyes fixed straight ahead
Focused on a

A future stop
it has not arrived, yet
they are waiting on flat black heels not seeing you, your bluish purple hands
your engagement ring on top of your large gold wedding band, your left hand on the side of your face

where is that man, that woman, that person who loved you?

a business trip?
a divorce?
Separation or a

Alone, as your blonde companions,

Your eyes closed, then open, then closed again you see them

try not to go past
your stop

it will come soon

the rest, silence

the rest, silence

Is the words ‘I don’t love you anymore.’

all that

different than ‘I don’t love you enough to do that?’

I don’t know; or want to know. Only a touch, a desire, her flawed memory Is
needed a need, my need.

Silence is, has a beauty containing it

silence whispers, ‘perhaps’

it is

my rest,
my, mine

silence, a rest

women’s voices. London 1

women’s voices on London buses, trains. Angry, low, fast and choppy. Never too loud. Phone voices, voices. And a non emotional voice ‘this is a Central line train to Epping.’ Calm reassuring. A sister’s, a mother’s voice.


I don’t know how many times I have to tell you

You moved the project and didn’t listen to

But Scott listen to the sequence and hear why I am somewhat cross with you


Yes tomatoes -then drinks?

The outcome needs to change Scott. Can you see my side? Listen-

‘This is Hackney Wick. This is the London Over ground service to Stratford the next station is Stratford.’

‘Mind the step.’

Hello B… I am yes are you ok I am going into Stratford and have a cab to catch bye.

Black tonight. Yes. Tonight.

‘This is Stratford our final stop. Thank you for riding the London over ground.’

Scott, good, so we