Standing there like stranger at a bar
There are three Irish fairies
Tied together
Which clearly want to go home,
Three football figures
Of now retired Spanish footballers
And two pigs
Both of which I am convinced
Are odd little jokes
Friends got for me travelling,
A Edward Sissorhands figure
Which I accidentally nicked
At a bookshop in Brighton
And which I am too
Embarrassed to return
A tiny Cadburys Chocolate Van
Which is more years older
Than I know
That my Uncle gave me
A week before he died
And has followed me
Through three addresses since
(And four removal vans)
An Indian goddess
That I have no memory off
And am half convinced
appeared on-top
of my bookcase
almost by magic,
a Kabuki figure
which keeps falling
down the back
no matter what I do
leaving me thinking
it’s a ninja in disguise
really,
Pebbles picked up
From Poole Beach
At last 15 years ago
Which my then
Girlfriend
Said was a heart stone
And would give me
Endless luck,
Pens that ran out
Of ink years ago
Writing bad poetry
And now Shift uncomfortably
With each footstep
Wondering whether
I would throw them out
Like a bad afterthought
Or tinker with the order
Like members of
A rock band
Replacing each other
Brazen in the shadows
In forgotten
holes of memories
Running through
Imaginary fingers of my hair
Every time I look at them
Naked through journeys
Away from myself
And into time.
