What have I to write about

The words sneered

a comment thrown

careless to the wind

your world

so different to mine of

air conditioned offices

comfortable chairs

endless emails

yours is boiling point

red dirt and cracked heels

remote stations and

precious maleness

you think mine is pampered

I think yours is toxic

what have I to write about?

If not poems about

pigeon grey clouds; dappled

the prickle of air

fizzing on skin

before a storm

If not poems about

how a tiny glance can

erase a hundred broken promises

of lovers touches and

kisses stolen in crowded rooms

like stars

when the sun arises

What have I to write about

if not poems about how

none of this means anything

to you.

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