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.