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Yak City

It isn’t gossiping in Washington
or plain nosiness in Michigan,
more a neighbourly concern
over the economic downturn.

It's a whispered word pushed out from eager lips,
​the common bond of keen ears and gossips.

---

​
Youth

You once went to meet someone
out by the sea;
out of a three year relationship
and needing someone else to kiss .

Walked for two hours by the coastline
wondering when it would all click together;
with eventual lips, met
with the damnation of inevitability.

It was a cold and desperate move
with nothing of romance:
you did not roll with the waves,
the breeze did not caress your skins.

Yet, clumsy with anticipation.
you wanted more: she could take it
or leave it, with that cruel disdain
only the young know.

She left you at the station
with a thirty minute wait for the next train,
a discarded fag end
still burning, un-inhaled.

Part of you is still down at that track
looking for the vestibules of youth
along the dead leaves and empty time, lost
while waiting for the headlights home.