song for chloë

steer yourself away from me, steer away. through your mediocrity, your great beauty, the silver birch fallen in the recent gales but a slim trunk over at road side, the A140, the immensity!, in the passenger side, the lines – the one line – that’s there at the base of your tummy and down to where the top of your cunt would be if your skirt wasn’t the way the garment hangs upon that line, that line is entirely precious, absolutely so, it’s there when I sleep and at other times, always there, all the lines that conspire to bear the geometry of your body on your legs – hosiery! ever hosiery! – all the colours of the monochrome rainbow feet stuffed into brogues, anchors to the horror of the world, you suffer migraines – not me! – you paint the rims of your eyes in ascent as routes for me to follow, your whole body is a signpost towards its other parts, other points of interest, your breasts, obviously, your breasts the notable point of interest, tremendous things, and when you drink cold water up from a huge thermal receptacle I can so easily substitute the receptacle for my prick, tip worked and lips around, it’s the migraines maybe that make your eyes roll back a way, that lovely lolling look like a wench under voodoo, under zombie trance in a 60s flick in the tin mining villages of the Cornish peninsula, enslaved by the greed of a capitalist squire, and that same lolling as facilitates the imagination of your facial expression at the height of orgasm, you look slightly like my oldest friend, a great guy, a smart guy – it’s the shape of the nose – makes for an odd desire, close your eyes, cable knit! cable knit across your tits! close your eyes, cable knit!, like a working dog I’ll guide you to the position you need to be in, I can kiss the pocked skin of your forehead and so bear the weight of your frown, I imagine you in almost constant pain physical pain, I don’t know why, you’ve one of those faces, tonguing your teeth beneath your slightly mean lips, oh my – look at those earlobes, you smile downwards, how do you do that? it’s wonderful, you are