A salty brand of loneliness;

the whirr of an aeroplane

piercing through the night,

giving sound to the sky.

Our demises, our deaths

somewhere further down the line.

Salt getting caught,

in the teeth

on the tongue.


Encrypted Moments

You said on a certain site
that you missed
a certain someone.
Your friends replied with jokes
I didn’t understand.
Was it your new boo
one of them mentioned,
a week or so ago?

That writing on your wall
took me somewhere unfamiliar:
a metropolis,
high rises towering,
windowpanes reflective,
security guards stood sentry
in opulent doorways.

Do they look out inside?
I cannot see them.
Yet fortunes
have been made,
from the words
we have all written.

I long for something true.
Like your hot tears
on my naked back,
the first time
I tried to end things
between us.

No one knows
how that felt
except the me
that was with you
in those encrypted moments,
that sped by
at fibre-optic speed,
one by one by one.

Old Lady Names

With the passing of the years,

a name like Doreen

slowly morphs

from a pretty, modern name

for a pretty, modern girl

to an old-fashioned name for

a little old lady.


My name is Richard.

Richard has not been in the top fifty boys names

for quite some time,

so in a couple of decades

will it only be associated

with old fuddy-duds

who still remember evenings spent

chatting on MSN messenger?


Changing fashions,

changing bodies,

changing times.

Each day goes by

from now until the last good-byes,

one by one by one.

I resolve to at least try

and live each of them.