I like my books clean, fresh and crisp

With no crooks, tears or bends.

And then one day reading H G Well’s Invisible Man

I thought “why not, it’s mine and no one else’s”.

So I wrote, first on the margins

Then I employed parenthesis for poignant paragraphs,

Enclosed eloquent verse with quotation marks,

Underlined sound sentences with fine lines,

Drew elaborate ellipses round pearls of wisdom

And now, when you flick through,

You see Wells and I in animated conversation.


My hand still trembles putting fresh ink on old ink

But I’ve got a big shelf and more conversations to have…


I think about you

I think about your small hands

Anchored on my puffed out chest

And how we said “never again”

Again and again


You retreated in my hesitation after you asked

“What’s your favourite thing about me?”

Well, it’s the mess I make with your hair,

The way your breasts fall when I won’t let you up,

Your owl eyes and innocent stare


I have been trawling through the wreckage and

These are the last embers of that firestorm. 


Hey you,

I want to tour the galaxy with you.

Let’s check in at the Moon,

At dusk, dine on Venus,

Watch the sun rise from Mercury,

Take the sleeper train to the furthest end of the Milky Way,

Visit the forgotten temples of Pluto,

Make fun of the street names on Uranus,

Send your mother postcards from Neptune, tell her we’ll be back soon,

Kiss on the slow gondola around Saturn,

Take Oscar worthy selfies on every single one of Jupiter’s moons,

Watch a day in the life of earth from Mars

Then coast home on Halley’s Comet.


Ah, how I want to be with you!