Her Finger Up My Nose

A tourist in town, quickly swiveled around. An arm extended upwards, pointing.

Before I could move, a finger went up my nose and my head tilted onto a 45 degree axis.


I reached onto tippy-toes to disengage, but slipped back down onto the soles of my feet.

The fit of the digit was snug, way better than any one of my own.


My arms swayed gently, while I waited for the expected withdrawal.

I hoped her finger was clean, it seemed to smell okay to me.


A look of shock had crossed her face, perplexed, she froze.

I remained impaled, until passersby assisted, lifting me free.

First Run in 5 Years


I ran.

And I walked,

In between running.

It seemed a sensible thing.


I did not absorb the natural surroundings.

I tried, but couldn’t fix my attention on sights or sounds.

My thoughts were focused on the present, when I’d next walk,

When I’d next run, looking for markers, that bench there,

A tree here, when this person walks past.


A mix of runners, walkers, lovers & friends.

Couples seated on benches, in quiet conversation.

Older, married couples, strolling in the morning sun.

Not so much conversation with them, I noted.

Enough has been said, over all the years.

Some muscles pulled gently,

I eased off in response.

Quickly felt tired,

30 mins,




Next week,

When I’ll try again,

Maybe only 30 minutes.

Slowly, but surely build up.


“I’m Not Having That!”

It came as a shock,

A sensationalist presenter of a tabloid talk show,

Dead, killed, live on TV.


He had been crouched low,

In front of the set.

Goading an increasingly agitated-looking guest.

Waving typed-out notes in one hand,

Pointing his microphone accusingly in the other.


The murmuring of the audience increased in volume as he spat out formulaic provocations.


Where were the security staff,

As the burly youth rose from his chair?

All at once running and swinging his leg backwards,

Before bringing his boot into contact

With the underside of his inquisitor’s chin.



In less than two seconds.


It was shown and re-shown, endlessly on the news.

Stopping just before the critical moment,

To spare viewers of an unpleasant scene,

As a body lifted up and a head snapped backwards.


A mercifully,

Quick release.

For all concerned

And for all people everywhere,

Including ancestors and descendants.


Bar Work

Working a shift at the bar, I’m friendly although I’d rather be home.

Some people are sweet, charming or just plain pleasant,

while a few others, forget I’m here, it can seem.

No eye contact, simply “I want a beer”,

it’s ok, I don’t make it personal.

I guess it’s how they are

in their lives.




maybe it

wouldn’t hurt,

for schools to throw

some lessons in, on simple

pleasantries, common courtesy and

friendliness, when engaging with a fellow

human being, doing their work, making their living,

employed in a shop, hotel, railway station, library, restaurant, etc.