The Crossword Man

We saw him often during our stay in Moscow.
Every time we passed the opulent public building
he’d be sitting there in his “Enquiries” cubicle
intent on his crossword.
We watched in awe
as the small queues formed,
marvelled at the increasingly imaginative ways
devised to attract his attention.
All failed.
The women in high heels,
the men in smart suits,
the young people in jeans,
the workers in uniform,
there was no discrimination
they were equal
in his resolution to ignore them.

It was sometime later at the end of an era
when I saw him again.
He was sitting there at his desk
intent on his crossword
and then came the breakthrough
We watched in awe
as he leapt up,
rushed animatedly to the door
shouting and gesticulating
to the camera crew who had opened it.
They were making their way inside
as I watched on the television News.
Now I know,
all that is needed is a camera!

Looking Glass

I’m gonna break
that looking glass.
Too many of them
are walking through it.
I’m gonna break it.
I’m gonna stamp
on the shards
grind them to powder
so the fuckers can’t get back.

Lost at Sea

I’d had the dream before
so I’d seen the waves,
heard them
and there was I
my childhood self
but still upright
still on my feet
playing games
in spite of it all.

And there am I again
my teenage self
but still upright
still on my feet
looking cool
the rough
and the smooth.

And here I am now
my adult self
trying to work it out,
somewhat lost
all at sea
to let it wash over me.

But as the images flash past me
along with the jetsam and flotsam
I don’t think I’ll wake up this time.