Find a £5 red wine in Tesco
And buy as many as we can
It’s a Beaujolais
Or Bojo, if you will.
Wander amidst green hills
All dips and curves like hips on a dance floor.
Groove in the kitchen to ABBA
For a second, it’s a dance floor in the middle of nowhere.
Make a phone call
Put on hold.
And lambs are taken to slaughter in the slanting sunlight.
Shadows long, grass a dripping, zesty green and a ripe and juicy red tractor
Only the slatted grey container diligently drains joy from the scene.
Dust motes catch the light, floating like teens through a festival.
A wasp hits the window pane.
Hungover, I stare at the gold karaoke mic
A gherkin in one hand, a boiled egg in the other.
But in the river,
White limbs cut through inky dark water like Guinness poured from the tap.
The water wrinkles like skin on hot milk
As the man passes me fish and chips,
Our fingers touch.
And the dog’s snuffly, twitching nose
Offers an indescribable sense of peace
What news carries on the breeze?