Can’t be arsed yet
let the sales sail by till June
wake me when I’m sunk.
February
I ache for antifreeze
just kick start me secretly
dilute with porridge.
March
Go hare spotting, erect
long ears, bulging beady eyes,
avoid the mirror.
April
Come she will, if not
take her roughly from behind
perhaps in disguise.
May
Bloody bank holidays
who really cares? one day off !
the employed you slob.
June
Factor eight upon
your frizzling pate, egg bald coot
I’ll have chips with you.
July
Recall seventy six
what a scorcher, hosepipe ban,
yeh yeh yeh yeh yeh
August
Come she must, if not
search for the g spot, prepare
to be amazed sir.
September
Many things seem to end
yet many things seem to begin
how very confusing
October
Neither here nor there,
Cold then hot, dark then not, what
An in-between-er.
November
Time of burns, not scalds
Of intricate plots by dummies
Stuffed with old clothes.
December
The month I came out,
No not the closet, the womb
And man loved the moon.
Camus
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