“Where’s my a thousand kisses?” he said “Like you gave the Spanish poet?” Urgently recalling the story I must have told carelessly over a pillow, I said “Maybe I was simply showing him how to count in English?” “1,2,3 etcetera”…

He didn’t lie with her until her mortal heart slowed, slowed, slowed, slowed to just a mumble in his big ear His yawn a tunnel through time A window too Took respite in a cave to ease his arthritic thumb…

A white boy born into a poor family must find it hard to understand the idea of white privilege A black boy born into a poor family must find it hard to understand racism racism is pain unheard and unwitnessed…

Oh here’s to Brighton A town that says ‘do your worst’ Says here’s to the hug that won’t let go first, taking the sting out of signal failure at Three Bridges Says here’s to the archers and all the weekend…