(i)
bourbon, pie and talking at your table
up there with the brandy alexander twist at the top of texas
hours upon hours on your sofa in the winter night
listening to songs we both knew in configurations we didn’t
“you’re not broken!” i said
“holy shit! it’s 3am” says you
“if it doesn’t suit, we can say hello another time!”
says you earlier in the evening as i’m running late and apologising.
“there’s no way i’m missing this pony ride” thinks I
and so I made my way down your street in the freezing cold,
riding two buses and going about it arseways on the way.
I’ve been dancing around you trying to get that long in your company since,
with as much innocence and excitement as can be had
over bourbon, pie and taking a chance on conversation
with some strange attractive foreigner you barely know
but are happy to trust.