Not over the Irish Sea
Yoshi has been on holiday,
like Finn McCool's long legs
Yoshi can cover continents.
He has been to Ireland,
he likes red heads
and whiskey.
He is shocked at the news,
enquires how I am
and that he still misses me.
Asks if I need some money,
I say no, we laugh awkwardly.
Yoshi is convinced that one day
I will say yes and realise I need him,
I am equally convinced I will not.
We talk about the others,
I say how depleted we seem to be.
Yoshi arranges a meeting,
I will get on the Ferry
and he will meet me in St Malo,
we will take his new Ferrari
and roll on cushions somewhere,
he thinks Jean Paul has new pad,
a quasi wife didn't work out.
He will phone me in a day or two;
can I afford the ticket?
Probably not but to be honest
I need to get away,
I'd like to ride on Yoshi's shoulders
while his long legs stride,
but it won't be across the Irish sea.
Poetry by Elle
Read 601 times
Written on 2014-03-01 at 16:54
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