Sunday, June 14, 2009


This will be the death of us you said
100km out of the city
Riding in your car with the windows open
My cigarette lit
I’d kill for a whiskey round about now
But I am dry as the desert
The countryside is a postcard from a tourist counter
Green hills that roll on and on to the skyline
Clouds that throb the whitest white
If it wasn’t so perfect I could live here
I count the stripes on the road
As the black tar slips beneath us
Every metre takes me further away from what I know
And the day is a mystery
Locked in my head
I think of things I’ve lost
A million miles away I float above the world
A missing satellite
A broken star
These silent thoughts like swallowing glass
You squeeze my hand
I wish I was an electrical cable
Able to transfer this knowledge straight to your heart
Like a phone line or an x ray
They would serve me better now than silence
Then my ability to talk
You are without doubt the best thing that ever came into my life
My sadness is not yours
You did not bring it
It lived before you
It lives without you
It’s a beautiful day I say
The clouds roll away and I squint in the sunlight
This will be the death of me.

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