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The young girl sidles down the slope of the street, skis on her feet and poles in her hands. passers by throw her dirty looks which she skilfully dodges - only to be hit full in the face by an old joke: a boy shouting, 'You're taking the piste!' A half smile forms on her face - she smiles not at the joke - but at the pleasant way the sun glints on the tips of her skis. Ihaven'tgotenoughhandstoholdyou (For V.) I held her in my arms and whispered in her ear, 'I haven't got enough hands to hold you, for you I'd need twelve hands.' 'Are you calling me FAT? Look at me, I'm a twig.' 'Oh, of course I'm not saying that you're fat, I'm saying that you're beautiful.' 'So what would you do with your twelve hands?' 'Well, I'd need two to cup your face in, two to hold your hands, another two to lay upon your hips, yet another two to gently massage your breasts, two more, still, to hold no to your perfect ass, and one to run its fingers through your hair.' She looked, lovingly, into my eyes as she said, 'Ha! That's only eleven, you fool!' 'Oh yes, and one more to hush your mouth!' I replied. She moved her head, so as her mouth rested close to my ear And whispered, 'That's so sweet. But if you had twelve hands I wouldn't let you near me, I've no interest in loving freaks!' Senga and the wash Senga came back home from work and went straight into the kitchen, where he sat in front of the washing machine - peering in, watching the washing spinning round and round. Senga looked in too. 'What's that in there?' she asked, a quizzical look playing all over her face. 'A cloud.' 'A cloud?' 'Yes, a cloud. It was looking a bit grey and grubby, so I just reached up, grabbed it and stuck it in the wash.' 'You're washing a cloud,' she said, sounding astonished, 'on an acrylics programme, are you mad?!' In remembrance He emptied the bag of flour on to the worktop, pressed it flat, closed his eyes and gently caressed it - in remembrance of that face he would kiss no more. Oyster (for Louise) How it wriggled and danced Moisture glistening on its pink surface With only the tip of it daring to poke itself out From the dark hole where the rest of the mussel lay hidden. But in there if you looked closely enough You could make see the small spherical object Gently gleaming in the gloom - Like a pearl Resting on top of that great oyster. Louise had gone and got her tongue pierced at the weekend, and now she was showing its swollen mass off to all and sundry. Unless you have explicit written permission from the copyright holder, you are denied permission to publish or republish this file, or a modification of this file, or any extract from this file, by any means. |  |
