TYNINGHAME
There’s nothing I’d leave buried, lucky me,
Oh, lucky me. You’ll find me where you look,
In Tyninghame, still staring out to sea.
The loved ones are unhurried in their books,
And lads are playing football to the right,
While I affect indifference and dig down
With careless hands in plain and perfect sight,
All there to be seen, all there to be found.
I’m sure I wouldn’t dig a hole too deep
The sands would swallow memories of mine,
For I have built a sturdy hall to keep
All lives around me safe and straight in line.
And yet, the story’s true, I lost the ball,
I’ve never understood that truth at all.
BRUGES
There’s us, in Bruges, on horse drawn carriage, now
Entirely at ease with the circumstance
That leads in two-three years to marriage, and
That brisk in-joke, ungrasped, as our first dance.
It’s me and Julio, down by the town hall
Look, me and Julio, Miro and van Eyck.
It’s Julio and me, plotting the downfall
Of shadows we don’t need to feel alike
It’s obvious, joyful, chocolate, beer, mussels,
Lace, waffles, jokes about Colin Farrell
It’s laughing at slagroom and rhyming with Brussels
It’s New Year’s sunshine in Christmas apparel.
It’s me looking happy, you looking so pretty,
We circle till we’re at the heart of the city.
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