I didn’t take you seriously
You barely registered on my radar
I just thought
No,  actually I didn’t
think anything about you
But then the contract was set
With this one glance

I hadn’t been eyed up in
That way in some time
that curious intrigued way
that squaring up and
challenging way
that you’d decided
for both of us way
that makes my whole

body start responding
Like some kind of reflex
Like a series of
buttons were pressed
Like I’ve been
biologically programmed
Like I’m responding to
Unspoken commands
when the signals are set
I submit
without even realising

Our eyes were having
A very different conversation
From the one our
mouths were
You read my book
Without revealing one chapter
You played dumb
Just To make me feel clever

And I thought I was coy
But my bluff was blown
When you stopped playing
Didn’t’ wait to see my hand
Just Pinned me with it
Against that wall
In one smooth maneouvre

My dress raising over my legs
I stopped thinking altogether
Maybe I’m a follower
Who only pretends to be a leader
All mouth until told to
Shut up and listen
I was in a position
I didn’t know how to get out of
And didn’t really want to
either

The last time
I was in a situation like this
the contract was set
with one glance
but I didn’t know then that
the terms were four years
and sometimes I think
I probably should have
checked
The fine print

but this time is totally different
the toilet cubicle
is replaced by a dressing room
the town of brighton
is played by berlin
the bartender from brazil
is now a musician from london
and as for terms and conditions
well
once again they were not being
 set by me

I said
How are you so sure
That you’re stronger
And you laughed and said
Because I am
And I didn’t consider
Any of the others who could  walk in
Completely forgot about
Someone else I’d been
Flirting with only
 ten minutes before

And there I was
pinned
a butterfly preserved
Not knowing
how I’d been categorised
In my caption and
Just as suddenly as we
started
Without any explanation You

stopped,
let go of me
And you were
walking off
I said
Am I ever gonna see you again?
And you..
you just Laughed…

Chicago is…

Like all the bits

Of America that I’ve liked

And all sorts of other sides

I never considered

But if I had

I would have missed when I left

And its been a long time

Since I had any desire

To make any kind of trip to America

But this visit is

making me rethink

Chicago is

Like the arty lo-fi scenes

I’ve loved in new york

Only without the pretenciousnes

Like that vibe I liked in San Francisco

But without the flakiness

Its what the best parts of D.C.

Could be like if it wasn’t

So stifled by all things governmental

Or as quirky retro as parts of Baltimore

But less painfully kitsch

Chicago is…

totally unfamiliar

But ever so welcoming

Its this place I’ve found myself in

somewhat randomly

But now I really can’t believe

It never occurred to me
to come here…Sooner

I’m walking down main roads

And side streets enjoying

Every single hello how are you

And have a good day that

Many of my European friends

Would happily mock and sneer at

I’m feeling genuine curiousity and interest

When asked what I’m doing,

where I’m going, where I’ve been

I’m loving listening in on the conversations in

Coffeshops, amused by racks of alternative indie pornographic comics

Lovingly crafted zines, and thrift shops almost virginal

In their low priced stock of 80s garments

Not yet picked clean by fashion-obsessed   hipsters

Four jackets for eight dollars

Really you must be joking?

And those Cute  bakeries

with home-baked hand frosted

Cupcakes that are vegan friendly because

Well why wouldn’t they be?

And I can’t believe how many

independently owned

And operated shops there are  here

everyone seems so chilled out relaxed

But motivated.

The people I see in café’s are drawing and writing

And talking about organizing gigs and going to gigs

And maybe its just an American thing

But the enthusiasm people seem to have here

Is practically  overwhelming

Chicago, so far I have only
one complaint for you

I know its only day two

But really there are far far far too many

Tall skinny cute boys with
beards and vintage glasses

Slouching around in faded jeans and hoodies

And they’re everywhere!

working in all those

Indie owned shops  and bakeries

Cycling down those side streets

Writing and drawing in their notebooks in café’s

And they’re all way too friendly

I mean, it’s a bit much, Its distracting

after all
I’m supposed to be here to be working..

it was impossible
 not to touch…
not in a way that was
intentional
definitely always accidental
our arms and shoulders
brushed
sized  one another  up
maybe even flirted with
the idea of more intimate contact

this was a protected space
scorpions tales crossed at the gate
and there we spent
a full day, a full on full day
and the evening aftermath
i complained that the bars
in hackney didn’t stay open
late enough

and bought myself a flask of
jack daniels
from the corner shop
as consolation.
and when we came back
nothing really happened

well there was a lot of talking
about all sorts of things
but mainly relationships and then
i think we traded notebooks
teased one another over
the heiroglypics we used
masquerading as handwriting
nothing happened
but that room felt
charged with something

months later
i lingered outside that same
graham road grey door
waiting to enter
stepped up the stairs
and though it still may have been
worlds smallest room
on this day it  amazed
how we consistantly
navigated the spadce
so no matter how we passed one another
there was definitely no chance of
touching.

and i still felt protected
by the scorpions at the gate
but maybe not quite as
relaxed as the time before
this time it felt like
there was just enough room for
us and our alteregos
perhaps some space left oveer
for the lives we were leading outside
both more than a little preoccupied
with the thoughts of
and the hours didn’t pass quite as fast

and when we finished
i made no complaints
about bars not being
open late enough
i was long gone before
closing times
leaving me to run and catch busses
and center my mind on
the concept of “space”

the space we occupy
the space we let someone into
the space in my head
that i so often share
with total strangers
but sometimes struggle to explain
to those that i intimately know

the space two flights up
from this unmarked
graham road grey door
to the bunker with no buzzer
the safe haven for a poet
and the space he fills
the space he choose to share

the space between our meetings
the space underneath
what is said
and what is left unspoken
guarded by scorpions
tales crossed at the gate…

Dear straight girl

Lets address the matter again
Keep the red heels ok
They’re fierce
They give you some kind of
Potential
Maybe that’s what the wicked witch sees in you
Maybe that’s why the good witch
Is looking at you with that
Glittery glint in her eye
I saw you go all shy
Looked down demurely
I know you felt it

I saw you breathless
When she stood behind you
Quietly chanted with you
Theres no place like
Home
She was giving you
a chance there you know
And you chose
Kansas

Let me tell you something darling
One day I woke up
In a random bed
Head still heavy from whatever
Substances I’d taken from the night before
Totally unsure of
what day or week or year it was
And this
Was the moment when I proclaimed
Paula… you are not in London any more

But the difference is
I like oz
And I’ve met wicked witches
And good witches
And boys pretending to be wizards
At various things, music, art, technology
Promoters pretending to be courageous
when actually they were
Far more cowardly than that
lion you were hanging with
And techno tin men who could have benefited
From having more of a heart
Its scary at times, I empathise

But darling
I can’t get away from the fact
I’m very confused by the fact
That in a magic land
With magic heels
And a self proclaimed good witch
(who could have been magic in bed)
darling dorothy

you chose… kansas?
I mean if you had to go stateside
Surely san Francisco, new york
Or even Chicago are more
How shall I say this
Enticing?

Somewhere over the rainbow
You may find that there are people
Who trade security for the unknown
And you know what you may be right honey
There is no place like home
But home my dear
Is where you claim it
But I’ve got to go in a minute
See I’ve got this date
With the good witch
And I was wondering
Maybe I could borrow those red heels…?

Apparently I’m still allowed
The moniker queer
I hear its terribly postmodern
To have sex with more or less everyone this year
And I have trouble at times
Buying into that bisexual title
Its accurate but greedy
Either too sexual
Or not quite sexy enough
Clinical
Even homosexual is cooler

And I’m not quite sure
how life will change
Without my gay membership card
Will It affect my gaydar?
I still think that’s  kind of useful and
In a time when its easier
To call yourself lesbian than feminist
I’m not sure I
want to be kicked out of the club yet

I’ve never been one to shy from labels
I like to carry as many as I sometimes wear
And I was always such a loud
Advocate of the short and sweet term
Dyke that it seems a little unfair
To cancel my subscription to dykedom
Ok, so the expiration comes with some perks
I guess its nice to have options

And its wild to kiss the opposite sex instead
And not have strangers look on
Or shout not so friendly comments
Just for passing by and holding hands
The worry of pregnancy kind of sucks though
As does the looks on the faces of gay girls
On hearing that now I’m some kind of – hasbian

But what can I do when
I receive a letter to say  the gay powers that be
Have cancelled my subscription
To lesbianism
I will shed not a tear
Because apparently
I’m still allowed the moniker queer
And after all
I hear that its terribly postmodern
To have sex  with more or less everyone
This year…

This pair of blonde women
Sort of together
But not really together
Not together together
not gifrlfriends
They were girl friends
(note the space in between)

it didn’t mean anything
The way they happened to be
dancing
together
moving with me
Trading glances
Trading me between
And We were only
dancing

And anyway
I don’t actually like blondes
Not generally drawn to fair skin
And light hair
And piercing blue eyes
And pouting lips
And hips drawing in closer on
Either side of me

Synthesising with
Intentions I don’t have
For blonde girls
Until Caught up in a game
I didn’t quite know
the rules of

I watched one walk off
gently push her friend
Closer in my direction
And presented with her
I met her eyes dead on
too drunk to be demure
emboldened by the last
Double of whiskey poured
I pulled her close
Bassline trembling
through my thighs to hers

As my eyes travelled
across her shoulder
And met those of her friend again
Who smiled in my direction
nodded encouragingly
while nearby
My friend looked on

I couldn’t quite
make out his expression
it was too dark and
he was too far off and
I wondered if this blonde duo
Thought he was my boyfriend
I attempted to smirk at him
raised my brows as if to
Mock the situation

Eventually
I excused myself
 walked over to him.
Leaving girl number one
Passing girl number two.
Smile, nod,
nod ,smile

Two pairs of  
piercing blue eyes
Two heads
tossing gleaming golden hair
Two sets of angled shoulders
Dropping into curved hips
Two pairs of endless
Denim legs

Two women that
Made me instantly
Drastically
rethink
This not really being into
Blonde girls thing.

My friend and I
ordered another round of drinks
And when I turned
And when I turned
In the brightness between darkness of strobing lights
I looked back
Saw my two blonde dance partners
Making out like mad….

So maybe they were kind of
Together?
I mean together together?
I mean like girlfriends?
(note lack of space in between)
I noted the lack of space  in between
them

girl number two
came back again
quickly closing
the space in between
her and me.
Girl number one watched on
appreciatively

And I sit here thinking
I sit here writing
I sit here writing and thinking
Why
Why
Why on earth didn’t I …
But then again
I mean generally
I don’t actually like blondes
Really…

I know  its not terribly 
 romantic To say this but

you’re the closed door

that I can handle

we’re the fucked up
I understand

you’re the one who keeps saying  no
while i keep hearing yes
You’re the morning after

That comes attached with

Breakfast and sex

You’re well intended

After-words

You’re dreams that I sometimes have

But don’t bother interpreting

You’re a particular coded kind of

Flirting

You’re a number I keep deleting

But  remember

You’re the phone call
I can’t help but pick up

You’re the book that I’ve read

That I keep re-reading

You’re the film I’ve
seen so many times

I can start at the middle 

You’re best avoided

and yet You’re this idea

I’m constantly toying with

You’re a distraction
 I’m better off Without

Like that woozy feeling

Of having drank too much

I’ve overdosed on obsessing over you

You’ve wasted my tme

i’ve complicated yours

You make me more

Hopeless than romantic

but what it comes down to is this
we’re the kind of fucked up
i understand.