Plastic Teeth

These plastic teeth of mine
I bought online

In the advert
the model’s own teeth
slipped easily inside
into a strip of plastic teeth

First the top ones
then the film cut away
and the bottom ones were fitted
In the third scene
the model looks elated
is filmed pretty close-up
to the recording camera lens

They look great
the teeth
Amazing!
Stunning!
Uniform and the whitest white!

The model’s face is lit
The model looks elated

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St Lonely-Heart

I lived alone
Sunday morning,
awoken,
I watched,
as a bright burst of shimmering light entered the bedroom,
and a vision appeared
Just like how we are told they do

I said “Who are you?”
I answered myself,
“You’re an apparition of a saint,
aren’t you?”
The figure emerging,
acknowledged my statement-question,
with a bow of the head
“Patron Saint of,
what?”
I asked

“This,”
the Saint spoke with a marginal echo,
“is of no importance”
“Maybe not for you,”
I said,
“but maybe for me it is,
giving credence to my story,
for when I tell others,
about when a vision of Saint So-and-So appeared before me”

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Mail Order

Pam received a knock on the door at five in the afternoon, to the door of the house she’d rented and a place she’d called home for the previous fifteen years. She hadn’t done much with the place over this time, trapped as she was, by the renter’s dilemma: Why do things the landlord should do, when she might decide to leave next year. A dilemma that felt progressively meaningless, as each year followed after another. Yes, the carpets had worn thin long ago, the power of the shower, never good, was pathetic now. The small sun room on the back of the property leaked-in rainwater, paint peeled from the window frames and from the front door, the same front door that had just received a rap from a lightly tightened fist, trying to gain her attention.

Pam was slouched on the futon-settee, a laptop computer resting on her thighs as the anticipated second burst of reverberations from a more firmly tightened fist rang out several decibels louder. She felt irritated by the interruption. Who could it be, another door-to-door sales person selling window replacements? A police officer half-heartedly investigating a local burglary? A pesky teenager doing a knock and run? Keiko, her mangy black and white cat was slotted comfortably within a space formed by Pam’s legs, sleeping, twitching occasionally. This was going to be a considerable disruption, Pam thought. She felt conflicted. To answer, or ignore? She glanced up at a the bright, unshaded wall light and concluded that from the outside, this would indicate to an observant visitor that someone was indeed, home.

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Looking Dead

I’m snoozing on the sofa when the woman who chooses to spend time with me – innately highly perceptive – she walks in through the front door, home from work, and she says:

“You look like you’re dead, laid like that.”
I say, “What do you mean, laid like that. Laid like what, exactly?”

“Laid with your forearms crossed over your chest, it’s like you’re laying-in-state, ready for a viewing, waiting for the public to pay their respects.”

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Sandals and a Scooter

As a little boy, the local newsagent shop owner
assumed I was a little girl.
He’d say so in a volume set lower,
as I chose which sweets to buy from the pick ‘n’ mix.

He’d lean forward and say,
“Aw, what a pretty little girl.”
He’d turn away to address
anyone else within earshot,
swapping “Aw” to the end of the sentence,
placing emphasis on the words “what” and “pretty”.

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My Lesbian Love

A woman I felt more than fond of,
she didn’t like men.
Not in that way.

At the time, I thought
perhaps her mind might sway,
listening to the things I say,
the crazy things I talk about.

Maybe we’d become
more than friends.

Once,
I bought her a tie she liked as a gift,
hoping her thoughts about me,
these might shift.

Later on,
that same evening,
we rose up inside a tall building
in an elevator (a lift).

Lost in a maze of mirrored corridors,
finally, we picked a door.
Walked through, tentatively
into somebody else’s party!

On the open-plan top floor,
below the black night sky
we window-gazed,
out upon a universe of city lights.

And once comfortably seated,
I told her, I wanted more.

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In Paraguay

I came across this fragment online: An interview film featuring two characters living as husband and wife in a small, Paraguayan town. One that includes a large community of ethnic Germans, within its population.

While at no point in the clip is a date mentioned, the fashion, furniture, quality of the picture, sound and the historical references divulged, gives a feel of the late 1950s.

Most of the filming takes place in a spartan-furnished lounge, with the pair shown seated together on a charcoal-grey settee. A bland, greenish landscape painting hangs framed on the wall. To the left and smaller, a pictorial calendar displays August’s arrangement of a white teapot, cup, saucer and a pile of books. A ribbon-tied spray of pink carnations lay across the open pages of the topmost book. The wallpaper, floral and faded, completes the scene.

“Ja, nien.” The woman is wearing a sleeveless white blouson top and a black wrap-around skirt. Her make-up and hair are immaculate. Initially hesitant, she directs her answers to a man positioned off-camera, evidenced by the occasional plume of cigarette smoke drifting across the scene.

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Caster Wheel Office Chair

Joseph of Arimathea cries out: “Who, has left Our Lord’s mortal vessel slumped on the chair like this?”

Within the tomb, an elderly turbaned man emerges from out of the shadows. Dressed in an embroidered stola, a walking-stick decorated by intergrown knots helps bear the load of sombreness he carries as he shuffles into a space of light.

“I am Nicodemus of Judea,” his voice is hoarse, dry and pitched upwards, “High Priest of Sanhedrin and I swear to Almighty God, that it was not I. Perhaps, instead…” a stubby index finger extends outwards to form an accusatory pointing device, “it was him, over there!”

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Vampire Girl Fiend

She is running and gunning on multiplayer
totally destroying the opposition
Excitement levels rise and fall
over a bloodless carnage

Fingers blur
changing between weapons
checking ammunition
calling in air cover and tossing grenades
all at staggering speed

When she smiles
her teeth show

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