a courting gentleman for leftover garden salad
abandoned at a dinner table
on the terrorist roof of a cheap guesthouse .
A junkie run dry for dead mans eyes
in a blue tinted side-dish
glass chips like cracked teeth
gave an impression
that the food had been tasted,
at least once,
yesterday.
Hunger was a bitter acquaintance
who hadnt been written to in some time
- wanted news on how the baby pepperdew were doing
and that summer romance
with the two scoops of
sweet strawberry ice cream
Didnt want the grapevine
just the fomented byprodukt
and a sympathetic palate
for thus far
unhealthy demands .
Hunger through the hot days
was a narcoleptic beach tourist
sweating waves
into the little runts
sand castle bucket.
a red faced rupture in a string vest
picking salt out of his ears
wondering why people seek fun on the coast
and looking around without hope,
for the forgotten beer.
At the bad luck end
Hunger was a jealous lover,
and finally,
stood on a corner with a flick knife,
she stabbed him three times in the gut,
- a lingering death of regret
for the chemical breakfast
that by 4.20pm on a Tuesday in late July
(-top floor of a multi-story carpark in cardiff bay)
like the lopsided listener
to this ranting recorder
out of his depth..
he was yet
to fully digest.
Home, if you have nowhere better to go
