i’m a cheek press or lips whetted

decisions in a look framed by chambered

footfall now tradesmen talk about fucking

loud after 10pm at the steakhouse back-

window i’m all of these things at 2pm

& i notice what you do: this emerald month

this broken attention-span my body not

quite compact – anti-desirable &

awkward under a double rainbow

the petrol light threatens the radio

stressed locality & you’re so sensible

a one-track thematic here, i thought

the sensation might fade with time

like so much else so wrong