the crackle in blue fire
I’ll see you
on London’s double deckers
by Namatjira’s grave
at a Darwin war memorial
in the backyard of kibbutz
I’ll know you
by the Cohen
you can’t hide
the fickle news
of groupies
the wisdom of the future
like a stone
I’ll sense you
in the boredom
nattered in this post
of how we ignored
or embraced
of when we cried
or even died -
of peace
I’ll dance with you
under lofty names
for God
the bankruptcy
that is money
a chimp in a cage
your vegetarian sandwich
with the fathers of
Kafka, Hemingway
and Woolf
I’ll prove my bloody point
that I was right at last
and you were bloody wrong
down to syntax and semantics
down to hyphens
and a self-respecting
blindness of
raw love
And I’ll say ‘Hello’ to you
in the sports field
of your mind
you’ve changed your religion
your address
and curriculum vitae
I’ll ask ‘Do you remember the forum?’
You’ll say ‘I took it decaf, with no sugar’
