Postcard

The sunshine fades eventually

I tire of noting how far I can see

Dismiss my pale skin turning light brown

None of it matters when you’re not around

There’s houses here painted the colour of sand

I’d burn them all down for the touch of your hand

I’d pick every orange from every tree

I’d smash every window, I’d shit in the sea

If it meant for one minute you’d be here with me

And I wouldn’t be sorry, I’d say “Screw you all”

“I’ve got a man who is handsome and tall”

“And he’s here tonight…!”

And I’d spin right around

And feel myself plummeting back to the ground

For you are not here, it’s warm but I’m colder

Someone’d give me a tap on the shoulder

They’d ask

Why I had just done a poo

In the Mediterranean

What was I trying to prove?

That I’m having a moment, as I’m sat with a beer

What to write on this postcard other than

Wish you were here

LK JOHNSTON