A list for John
Gum leaves sickling to the ground, dry as piles of paper.
The clock at Greenwich strikes.
The mobile phone is chirruping. A picture file is opening.
Silver aircraft – the stillness inside a journey.
Between the covers, black swans on the wing.
A long Guinness. Whites on the green.
Numbers glowing, fat with future.
A coin flipped – the winking sun.
Spangled youth, loud in the gloaming.
Plum and orange notes sketch the Concierto de Aranjuez, moist smudges in the dark.
Pages of a book in a language you can’t read, fluttering on the counter.