Pissing in the Bushes
I’ve just seen a man piss in the bushes
Opposite my house.
It’s the same place the school kids hide their cider.
An awning of privets disguises it all.
Catacombs are secreting receipts
Of expensive dinners,
New shoes, adulterer’s gifts.
Aluminium wrappers are blowing in
From the street.
Old cat’s teeth are buried in the soil -
Treasured dentistry.
I watch it all,
Everyday -
Something different.
This man pisses freely
As if he is hosing the greenery.
I imagine it ricocheting off leaves,
My eardrums tingle for it.
Just another Saturday afternoon.
He turns, catches me peeping -
I hide myself.
I am the one exposed.
My YouTube Viewing History
Lately my YouTube viewing history has changed.
It used to be pop songs,
Old episodes of TV shows from the 90s.
It's been a gradual happening.
A long slide into addiction
Like the way a teenager slowly acquires
A thirst for vodka and tobacco.
My friend showed me a video of popping spots.
Big oozy boils of red and yellow
Like a McDonald's about to burst open.
I told her I was disgusted,
Said I’m not looking at that
But I typed it in when I got home
Thousands of videos
The thumbnails - mountainous tiles of
Swelling pus under the skin - volcanic
Like landmines.
I sat and watched them for hours.
9 minutes, 3 minutes, 24 minutes
It all added up.
If I’d just watched the video in the car on the way home
Maybe I wouldn’t have got myself to where I am now -
Deleting history.
Bad News
The post hasn’t been, yet.
The letterbox has never had so much attention.
A noise. Birds on the roof coo and caw and converse together.
They’re old fish wives.
Hoisting up their chests, they don’t even realise
They’re the neighbourhood watch.
It’s bred into them.
Any sight of the unfamiliar they’ll be gone.
Inside the house, quieter, anticipatory,
Waiting for the postman to turn the corner sharply all in red.
Here he comes.
The birds fly away, the letter is opened
It begins.