Last stop: Walthamstow Central (short stories)
POEMS
LONDON, MORNING
Sprained tyres on a sunless day
glide down Upper Street
Past the rusty chairs
of pseudo-cafés
serving coffees for vomiting
and diarrhoea
My soles are taking on
the flatness of concrete
with a hiccupping glide
stopping erratically
at non-existent crossings
London drivers rarely stop
For old women
For the disabled
For prostitutes
For me
(Published in “Dan velikih valova”/The day of big waves/ Compilation of poems and short stories by authors around the literature magazine “Rival”, Rijeka 2001)
NO TIME FOR THE WRONG ACCENT
Of course you don’t call
even though you insisted I came with you
after the crowded Roadhouse club
in a cold October Covent Garden
You said
if you don’t say yes I’ll kidnap you
and I said, just as cool
no problem
we’ll drink tea and coffee
and talk with my poor English
and your American vowels
...
Even if you did call
I would say
Don’t have time for the wrong accent
Sprained tyres on a sunless day
glide down Upper Street
Past the rusty chairs
of pseudo-cafés
serving coffees for vomiting
and diarrhoea
My soles are taking on
the flatness of concrete
with a hiccupping glide
stopping erratically
at non-existent crossings
London drivers rarely stop
For old women
For the disabled
For prostitutes
For me
(Published in “Dan velikih valova”/The day of big waves/ Compilation of poems and short stories by authors around the literature magazine “Rival”, Rijeka 2001)
NO TIME FOR THE WRONG ACCENT
Of course you don’t call
even though you insisted I came with you
after the crowded Roadhouse club
in a cold October Covent Garden
You said
if you don’t say yes I’ll kidnap you
and I said, just as cool
no problem
we’ll drink tea and coffee
and talk with my poor English
and your American vowels
...
Even if you did call
I would say
Don’t have time for the wrong accent