Baby, Come Home

It should have been raining.

That is how it is in the song.

The steering wheel is trembling in my grasp. The seat is heaving. The windshield is wet with the rain that is not there.

"She's in a long black coat tonight."

Red tail lights blinking, blinding. Distorted. The car suddenly feeling smaller and tighter. 

"Waiting for me in the downpour outside."

Tires lose air. The wheels fall off. 

Rain runs in rivulets down the windows. 

"She’s singing, 'baby, come home' in a melody of tears."

The fan is wheezing. Temperature in flux, cold vents battle hot air. 

Cold sweat burns on my skin.

"While the rhythm of the rain keeps time."

The traffic moves. The rain comes down hard. 

Lights flash, and dissipate. I am shivering under the heater.

Everything heaves. The wheels barely move; tires in shreds.

"Baby, come home."

Calypso Du Evening

Sunday evening.

The closing of a weekend well spent in warm beds and warmer embraces.

The weekday melancholy rushing relentlessly, refusing to let our peace, our space stay.

We will make the best of this.

We will make tonight timeless.

A stroll on the banks of the canal, the sun resting into the earth, ruddy glow dissipating from the sky, giving way to our favourite blues.

Walking hand in hand, hers perfectly holding mine, sharing our warmth. Our breaths misted out, mingled and flew ephemerally into the dusk.

I wordlessly asked her to join our senses, twirling the tiny square of our music between my fingers.

She smiled, sprinkling stars into the growing night, ready with our ears.

I gave the square a little shake, leaving it to digital fate.

One - Ed Sheeran.

 Cosmos smiles down on us. The late evening becomes the perfect night.

We walk along the water, pulled deep into our third space, the world around us melting into azure. Sight was not important. There was only sound. Her touch. Our warmth.

The trees rang out with soft strumming, wind serenaded sweet notes, our feet tapped the bass beneath us.

We walked closer, arms wrapped, spirits entwined in unison of music.

I turn to her, her hands in mine, her eyes whisking me into her universe.

"You are my only one."

Doctor to OR

I walked through the thick glass doors and the smell of sterilisation assaulted my nose immediately.

The fluorescent corridors teamed with life as bodies rushed too and fro. Even at two in the morning, the hospital was alive and running at full steam.

I made my way to the cafeteria, which thankfully was mostly empty. A friendly familiar wave to the cafeteria-staff and I sat myself down at a table, placed the coffee I had brought on the cool marble surface and powered up my laptop.

I had been catching up on work for about half an hour, people came and went. A doctor rushed over and plopped herself down in the seat next to mine.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm late." The words tumbled out hastily, her hands moved about with manic speed, her eyes darted back and forth clearly in a panic.

I held up my hand and pointed at the coffee.

"Oh thank fucking god!"

She leapt forward and grabbed one of the foam cups, punched the lid open with surprising speed and began gulping it down.

I closed down the laptop, took my own cup of coffee and watched my companion visibly relax as the caffeine hit her bloodstream.

"Mmmmmmmm Caramel Frappacino. You get me bae."

"That I do, love. Because." I winked.

"Because. D'accord," she agreed.

She undid her hair which had been held at the back of her head like the plumage of a hawk, and let it fall to her shoulders. She closed her tired eyes and her mouth curled into a smile of bliss as she took a well deserved break from saving lives and giving hope.

"Bae you have the meeting tomorrow. You didn't have to come over so late," she said with sudden seriousness.

"Shush you."

I leaned over and we shared a caffeine sweetened kiss.

"No seriously, go home and sleep. I'll be home in a -"

I interrupted her with another peck.

"Mmmmmmmm," her smile widening even more.

"I will bae, in just a bit. I'll finish up this report and head home."

"Abhi chalay jao naaa. Get in bed and work."

"Naaah I like being close to my bae," I winked again, trying to annoy her.

But she didn't crack. Her smile betraying her mischievous intent, "acha na jao, whatever."

She snuggled into my arm and placed her head onto my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and held her close, enjoying our warmth.

"Long day, huh?"

She nodded sleepily.

"It'll be over soon, love," I kissed her forehead.

"Mhmmm."

Her phone beeped. A text from the OR.

"Back to being an angel, dear?" I teased.

She punched my arm, gave me a deep hug, and a quick sweet kiss, "I love you, Jay."

"Go go! I love you Roobaby. See you in just a bit."

Cowboy, Ninja, Viking.

The man walked into the dingy room, his purposeful gait ringing in the bar.

His wide, manic eyes scanned every corner from underneath his stetson.

Nine bald, tattooed, snarling Yakuza thugs. They huddled around tiny tables, groping barmaids, gulping bad beer and inhaling worse weed.

A twisted smile formed on the man's thin lips, a finger traced the hilt of the katana on his hip.

"Tell you what mate, you kill more of these shits than me and I'll give you my whole bottle of Inderal."

"You are on."

"Heh."

The man, tall and thin, glared at the scum in the room. The thugs noticed his presence and lifted their heads from their cards, flexing muscles, revealing side-arms and blades.

"Let the game begin. You can just hand me the bottles now."

The man's arm blurred and two thugs slumped dead in their chairs, throwing stars perforating their bodies.

"Psssh, you are getting slow there mate! Watch this."

The Yakuza, aware of being under attack, rushed the stranger.

The man's left hand whipped a six-shooter from his side and unloaded into the charging attackers. Four more hit the dirty ground, brains and guts spilling out of bullet holes.

"Dammit."

"Guess another sleepless night for you mate!"

"It is not over yet, gaijin. These two are mine."

"ENOUGH! I WANT BLOOD!"

The man hefted the battle axe strapped to his back with both hands and decapitated a thug with a single blow.

"HAHAAAHAA! NOW THIS IS FUN!"

The surviving baddie pissed himself in fear as the man approached.

"See you in helheim, cocksucker."

The axe fell once, twice, thrice and the thug littered the floor with his limbs, head and spleen.

"Dammit you barbarian shit! This was between me and pyjama boy!"

"I need Inderal to fucking sleep."

"Ain't my fault you both are fucking pussies."

The man closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers into his temples, brow deeply creased.

"Shut the fuck up all of you."

Morning

Morning sliced across my eyes from the tiny slit in the curtains.

The light chased away the yesterday of my slumber. Eyes, still heavy with sleep, flutter and I turn my face away from piercing luminescence, holding on to the last dredges of precious sleep.

"Hey babyboy."

My eyes open to hers. Lips warmed with a smile, she looks at me, through me, her gaze nourishment for my soul.

Filled with such loving affection, I sigh deeply. I take in her supple, warm form next to mine, our limbs intertwined.

"Good morning, beautiful."

A poem for Roo

I sit here
Fingers poised over keypad
As I wait for heavenly inspiration to strike me asunder 
Too bad I'm a virtual atheist.

So I will dig deep
pull out my feelings
And splay them on chalky screen
A poor, yet honest, imitation.

What is a poem, love?
As told by a wise orthodontist
Your innermost thoughts made visible on paper
But that's not right is it?

A poem is to have structure and rhythm
It rises and falls
Its fluid, it flows from page to heart
My thoughts are anything but.

My grey-matter, fickle bitch that it is
Has no flow
No rhyme or reason
It erupts and slumbers

So tell me, dearest Roo
How would I write you a poem?

Would I start with how we met?
At a support group of troubled egoists
Emotionally barren souls
Looking for solace in art and their own kin?

How we fell in love?
That time stopped at night
And rang with the screams of our veritas
We confessed, truly, at 4am?

That you made me believe in soulmates?
We revelled in our mutual lactose sensitivity
Became telepaths, empaths
Teenage dirtbags?

Or how we first kissed?
The perfection that was our first date
Of elves, hobbits and cheesecake
The tiled, sanitised monument of our genesis?

How about starships and losers?
Mingling fingers and buttered corn
Backseats and hurt backs
Of peace, contentment, and home?

Would I mention beds?
Warmth, dissipating distances
Scent, sound, touch; pure synesthesia
Of lingering kisses and perpetual hugs?

Addiction?
Withdrawal, narcolepsy and zombies
The blurring of days
The torturous weekend?

Redemption?!
We filled each other, lucidity incarnate
When we held each other
How all was right with the world?

And everything in between?
Of shared passions and loves?
Of oceans of peace and home?
How you, love, are my everything and all?

Of whispered and screamed iloveyous?
Words before sleep and exclamations of awakening?
Dreams and pillows?
Of the futures we design?

I cannot put this on paper
It would result in ecological disaster
The Frenchness of my mind would not be sated
And I would not do you, us justice.

Roo
My Roo
My dearest love
I am no poet

So I will just show you

I will just be.

This title will never be long enough.

Two months! 
They'll give way to twenty, to two hundred, to two infinites!
And this lucky jay gets to spend it with the phoenix of his lucid dreams and pipe awakenings.

Funny, how release of a few chemicals in my noggin make me want to dance and jump and scream for joy.
Make me want to sleep and ride and draw and colour and make me feel alive.

I swear I was going to fill this with our exploits through time and space, past and future, but when I think of you ... There is no time.

There is only now.

There is only the ever lasting horizon of you, of us. They say horizons like they are the ending, the limit of what you see, what you think. Expand your horizons, they say. Never to look over, to imagine.

The horizon, to me, isn't an ending. Its the floodgate to EVERYTHING. A beginning, really.

Why am I talking of horizons? That was impromptu. 
I like being spontaneous.
In the here and now.
Fluid thoughts rushing and tumbling in my mind.
Past not weighing me down, future not pulling me forward.

I can skip fullstops, substitute them for commas and just keep rolling out words and phrases and don't care if they get too long.

I am rambling, dancing in my mind, humming along

This is what being in love with you is like.

Bad poems and pretentious prose.

I love being in love with you.

No backspaces.

I am so happy I found you.

No spellchecks.

I love you.

No spaces.

Iloveyou.