message found in a richmond menthols packet (2007)
as i smoke my last cigarette
i see the shapes of men
through the net curtains in the park-keeper’s hut
engaged in arcane park-keeper’s duties
that may involve tea
and rough council biscuits.
their hanging jackets tease a wink through the netting.
they’ve aroused the curious beast in me
that i exercise in the park.
his paws are on the window
but the doylie curtain baffles him.
meanwhile i am drowning out here, alone
in a tide of russet leaves
which has rushed in vertically as i’ve watched.
they’re watching me i know
over rims of grim cracked mugs
through the net that secrets their games
as i sink into the waves
if you find this poem
then it means i did not make it.
and present it to the town hall.
they knew i was drowning, not waving.