A Wedding Outside Jerusalem

Damp elbow on wet bar.

Your cousin's new swing band

make ripples in the wine.

'Ah, England's lovely in summer, for sure.

I watch, I choke, I pine.

I don't know anyone

half as well as they think.

'And England's such a green and pleasant land!'

You breach my haze of drink.

Venus to my Vulcan,

dark eyes and that white dress.

'No, England's Satanic mills are long gone.'

Neater, I'd be a mess.

Want won't build trust or nests.

I tried but couldn't speak.

'Well, England's got those hills, you well know.'

I lived ten years that week.

The almost kiss, the need,

the fear that drowned you out.

'Oh, England's cities are builded tall, yeah.'

Good teeth, great hair, no doubt.

Came from Bath to take you

far away from this trough.

'It's England's gain,' I say, and stumble off.