Elvis lives

Yesterday I was in the lift when Elvis got in. He nodded, civil enough like, and got out on the second floor. That’s it really.

Numbers

1234.
Language not recognised.
1234.
Not recognised. Do you require assistance?
Yes.
Not recognised.
Please help.
Not recognised.

She favourited me and favourited me but never retweeted. I tried to DM her but I think I was muted. Or blocked. A tweet would be sweet.

“Once upon a time of dragons, once upon a time of flame, once upon a time of longing, once –”. Voices stilled. The earth rumbled.

On white carpet she squeezed paint tubes to map out her lovings; lines of hot colour first arrowed, then wandered; then smudged.

J looked at the book, then at the woman sitting next to it. Strangers on a train. She smiled back up at him and put the book away.

Airport 5.30 a.m.
Stags and hens and colourful trousers.
Veils and pom-poms and shrieks of laughter.
One lost passport and men in a circle.

Even so many years later, if I ever drop a raisin, as I bend to pick it up I see the snake slide silent out from under the cupboard….

You said the book of my poems I lent you was now tear-stained. My breath was taken, and I too cried a little. But you had said tea-stained.

Red wine has been taken. Nonsense is being spoken. Tears of laughter are being shed. Just one more coffee before we go to bed.