Crow's Feet

A poem from 2017

Listen to an audio performance...

When I went to bed I was young and not that handsome

But young was enough - there was still some hope

It was always going to go one of two ways

(Well, assuming I didn’t die young I guess)

I was either going to decay like a bunch of grapes

Or I was going to mature like a fine wine

In either case it’s on the palate of the beholder

Yum yum

So I closed my eyes

I wanted to stay awake

But it was too much effort

You know how it is?

Afraid you’ll miss something interesting?

Caffeine can only take you so far

And I slept

I may have dreamed

I can’t really remember

I think I got a job

I think I got married

I think we bought a house

I think we had children

I think we bought a bigger house

I think the kids grew up and left the nest

I think she got cancer

I think she died

I think I was sad

I think I was devastated

But what sort of a dream is that?

Far too much like reality

If I’d really dreamed I would have expected to be missing trains or for my car to crash and I would have left the scene unscathed or I’d find that my wife didn’t look like my wife but she actually was my wife or the house wouldn’t look like it usually does but it would still be my house, maybe some creepy person would knock on the door and then enter even without me unlocking it

That’s what dreams do

Maybe I would have flown?

So which dream is more horrible? The reality or the surreality?

This morning I woke up and I was still alone in a double bed

A bit arthritic I think

I don’t really know where that belly came from! Gross!

Nothing to get up for really

No-one to please but myself

I wish that hand would stop shaking

Might just close my eyes again

Might just not open them again