Gas by Lauren Beziers

Lingering around my nasal cavity
Threatening to seduce me
The invisible perfume
With intoxicating odour and mind bending allure.

The wash of the waves
In Crete splashed over my inner ear
Covering me in a spray
Of white horse sweat and creamy salt.

Now asleep and then awake
The gas flew me to Rio
Where I partook in gang football in a thong
With hot sand between my sparkling toes.

In a trice I appeared in court
With the fading judge unable to lift the gavel
The lawyers snored and the Jury crept away
And I sat prim and proper in my thick grey woollen skirt.

Mother, Father, rocking on painted waves
Drip dry animations with sea horses and seaweed
I call out "where are you"
They shout "none of your business !"

I wake and am sick
Make coffee I should not drink
Limp to the bedside cabinet for aspirin
And fall to the floor remembering.

LB 2006