for Roddy on his birthday
The sign said GUESS THE ONE WITH THE SWEETHEART TENDANCIES.
Roddy, you sweet, doomed saint:
near the spot the ghost-kitten of a barmaid
kicked off her shoes, your luck will change
by way of love songs, cognac and phantoms.
Let go the raincloud of your former self (which I hear
exists). And as I find myself privy to this information
– the ex-loves, the half-loves, crushes, obsessions –
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may you dream of the sweetest hazelnuts.
Terrific heart, summer can’t be far.
Never try to drink the sea, rather ice-water, beer
or dizzying broth. Your mouth is a full pink teacup.
Lime Rickeys and wine are scuttling and gorgeous – you look
astounding! I am sorely tempted to write a poem called hug-me.
When will you dance the one dance in your repertoire?
Tipsy sherbet will decide the night for us. One thousand
thank-yous, poet. There is a lot to learn and far to go.