All Tomorrows

you brainless idiot, you said.  you can't cross the street without falling in love . rightly so. but now it's like this: a gorgeous-looking widow next in line in her early 40s gave me her discount coupons at the supermarket today. true, I could not help but size her up (but I do not pride myself of it): short and sexily plump, stylishly-trimmed black hair, off-beat black gipsy clothes, a sort of deeply sad serious well-to-do NY-type left-wing latina intellectual. breath-takingly sexy. then, bursting through our common gloom, she offered me the cutest of smiles and 18 euros' worth of coupons. off-beat widower, meet off-beat widow. but why on earth do I think I have to fill the giant hole that you left? I don't. it's part of me now. I returned as dark a smile as I could muster, and never looked back. wrong key.

the sun breaks through the gloom and I recall being awoken rudely by björk singing 'all is full of love' - how much ecstasy must it take to be that silly? I hope the sky will clamp shut soon again and wipe that idiotic bliss from my face any key, as long it's minor

you called your cat oliver twist, and he’s an orphan all over again – like me, he only loved you and loves no one now. so everything’s changed, just nothing is as it was before nothing hasn’t changed not too bad for a start. press any key

the cinemas are packed screaming kids yelling parents popcorn revolves I pretend all is well no carnations required for this renewal, a mildly pleasing fuck-you-all feeling I managed today without you: a way up through the lemontree leaves and into the rain not bad for a beginning

I can't live without you, and now you'll have to live without me. your words to me a few days before you died alone at midnight. I don’t know what music I like now, what books, what movies, what people, what weather I don’t even know what to wear now it seems we defined each other, and your death has undefined me without you, I'm becoming a ghost

my essence has been distilled now: all I feel is her. just that she is no more. I know it’s profoundly wrong, but my soul has set its own course into the heart of the sun. words alone won't change this any longer. so in the end, one is nothing now, and the others have been crushed in their own ways. at the end of the spiral there's nothing. words alone

I read what you say, and am stunned at the sad irony. but despite all our pain, we won't do anymore - time for me to move on and live alone in the open

your grave is complete now. our grave. for I will join you there. sooner rather than later, I expect. people say one day I will feel hopeful again. not that I discredit them, but what point is there in hope? hope that something glorious will happen again, they say. Well, hope my arse, I’ve had all the glory I wanted. ever needed. so I’ll focus now on becoming a thoroughly grumpy, intolerant old man. sarcasm rather than irony. I’ll tend to the garden that you created, cantankerously making it mine. I used to be blindly trustful – no more of that nonsense. I’ll become the guard

last night, we danced and I would not let you go    I've been in love    six times in my life.    I have loved    only once,    and that took me 23 years to learn.    in all likeliness    I shan't love again,    for there won't be time now    to absorb anyone else's sum.    I am lucky    to have loved    once we danced

I could. I can now. anything I want. but all is gone: culinary.musical.literary.amorous limbo only the words on which I thrive. I mustn't move. stasis amidst the oceanwide void that I must populate now with myself

food & wine & sun-drunk laughter the fourteen of us, tightly knit, amidst the myriad of flowers you planted. in heaven with you.

sanity check: everything's still as in my nightcap photo album except that all has lost its value. lights off. dull pain. vivid dream something terrible is going to happen. awake: it's happened already. vivid dream you are calling me, submerge me in your living fragrance. awake: the bed is cold and empty. I hold your pillow. vivid dream you cut the straps that held a piano, I visit the hospital all over again. awake: dr faustus (p. 55) & st. augustine (untouched) on your bedside table. glad the cats are with me. vivid dream awake: half my pillow is wet. sweat. tears. awake: sanity check. kitchen. garden. coffee. cigarette. erase. back in black

first day no black in seven weeks I feel profoundly wrong.

if I get it right, I got it wrong. blind me. can I see you? [black stitched on white: door closed.]

only ten weeks ago, you were driving our car, cosy in your rocket. your sunlit profile to my left smiled and we sang the words of the last song of our last hope. now I am driving upside down and you're not here to hold me as I hit the world full on. with no brakes. off course. I'm grateful for the driving instructor to my right even though he's even more melancholy than I of course it would all be easier if I believed in a soul. of course.