I nearly bit my tongue off
When you asked me questions
Of no meaning, no substance
Forced like unwanted suggestions
About where to eat, what to do
How to travel, when to move
Staring over the barrel of a deceased coca cola
Eyes ploughing into me like needles
My responses grew weary and feeble
Conversation like too much hard work
From the very start
And tiptoing into the twilight hours
A train ride that should have been hushed
A meal that made me blush
A sentence too many that was more than enough
How can I stand to be me
When a day out is just pain
And I’m the only one to blame
My ineptitudes, my shortcomings
My overactive brain
With its excruciating bubblings.
Today on Gran Canaria, it rained something fierce.
Blouses and trousers shook on the clothes lines and were left sodden, stretched and hanging.
I prayed for them not to break loose and fly away. Knickers would be strewn across the pavement, bras caught on flag poles next to a sea of red and yellow and socks crouching in dirt-ridden gutters. Thankfully the pegs stood strong.
Children came to school with giant overcoats and umbrellas, ready for an indoor break time and the rescheduling of after-school stuff. They said their match was cancelled, so why wasn’t English?
I couldn’t really explain why.
At the start of every day
I’m going to be a vegetarian.
But then one sweaty Sunday
A hotel buffet calls,
Rows of striped bacon, fluffy eggs
And spongey sausages which flutter
Down my gullet…
I saunter up for a third helping
Delights piled high on the plate,
A leaning tower of meaty Pisa.
Let’s stuff ourselves to the brim
More so now than we’ve ever done
Because it’s free of course,
Gotta get that dollar’s worth
Even though the bacon fat
Will choke our hearts.
Thirteen glasses of orange juice
And a bucket of coffee later
I’m nauseatingly full.
With a ketchup-stained mouth
And greasy fingers
I swear not to do it again
Hotel buffets are a blessing and a curse
For those with never-ending stomachs.
The waves crash around my ankles in a desperate display of purple fury
Each and every one poised for a destructive landing
A very violet sandstorm.
Wading in to be whipped, my body tenses
Feet tapping and drifting away from the ocean’s disgruntled bed
One of them finds me, sizes me up, and then punches my body with its crackling foam
Knocked onto the sand, bikini bursts and breasts fall open
I bounce from grain to grain, submerged and breathless, au bout de souffle,
Steadying myself, my feet fight with the monstrous current
Metres from the shore feels like miles.
Boob readjusted, wedgie loosened, the sea retreats and oxygen invades
I stumble out of the deathly surf like a drunken banshee woman
Withering like a rose, wobbling like jelly.