Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Tesco's Toilets and Other Poems by Marc Carver

Tesco’s Toilets

A man comes up to me
As I walk towards Tesco’s.
“Excuse me do you know where they have anymore bathrooms?”
I think about it for a second
Because I want to use the one in Tesco’s as well
and there are only two cubicles.
I don’t want to get caught short.
“Yea, in Tesco’s, go straight past the bread and they are right in front of you.”
“Thanks, they have a steam cleaner in this one.”
“Yea, filthy dirty.” I say
And he laughs as he walks off.
I stop in the charity shop
then head for the toilet.
I see a man’s boots sticking out under the cubicle
but I don’t know if it was the man from before.
I never looked at his footwear.
I sit down and write a poem
Not this one.
Then I think about buying three bottles of wine.
When I come out the man has gone.


I look down at the pavement
There is a coat on the ground.
Then it starts to move
Even though there is no wind.
Then it gets up
And becomes
 a cat.


Most days, I don’t talk to anyone
just coffee girls
and supermarket women.
Sometimes, I tell them how beautiful they are
when I come back the next day
they expect me
to say it again.

So now
I go to different places
and I don’t tell anyone
how beautiful they are.


I walked into the coffee shop
The big black man was there
and we talked about the weather.
He stopped talking
and i moved on.

I ordered a coffee
and i began to chat to the man there as well.
"Do you realize between us we are half the gospels."
He thought about it for a while.
"Yea, i guess we are."
"Hopefully you will remember that little ditty. It has made your day memorable."
"Yea, most people tell me star wars jokes."

I grabbed my coffee from the oldish biggish woman.
"Thank you, you are a beautiful lady."
"I just serve coffee." She said.
I sat down
and stared out the window, looked at some women.
Then finished my coffee and walked out.


I looked at all the one pound cds in poundland.
I recognized all the names
from bands
part famous
maybe ten years or so ago.

I could not help but think
what would they think about their music
being sold in pounland for a sum of one pound.

When i went to the till
with my one pound toothbrush.
The till lady asked me if i wanted a bag.
"No you are okay love." I said.
She put my toothbrush in a bag anyway
as if she was giving me a present,
then smiled and said.
"There you go babe."
And that smile just got bigger and bigger
until i could've fallen right into it.

Job Center

The man in the job center
asked me how i was
after i asked him.
Of course i don't really care how he is.
I told him i was okay.
"We will knock that out of you."
"Oh i don't think you would want to do that John." I said.

He looked at me for a while
then found me a job.
"How do you feel about that."
"Yea, i can give them a call." I said.
"Do you really want to do it?"
"What do you think John?"
"Okay sign there Marc."
I signed and walked out and even wished John a good day.
And you know
this time
I really hope John does have a good day.


A man walks down the street.
He waves his arm forward in a sweep.
The way, you usher women
into a room before you.
But I don’t see a woman
or anybody else.
They only exist in his mind.
Or mine.

Ice Cream

I remember when I was a child
Maybe eight or nine.
There was a group of us
six or seven children.
This older boy came up to us
 he knew one of the boys.

He was old enough to have some money.
He bought everyone an ice cream from
The ice cream van.
I looked around for mine
But I was the only kid left out.

Marc Carver has published 6 books to date. 

Tuesday, 2 October 2012

'Dream Life' and 'Scene' by Greg Moglia


Got the right girl - sweet and kind, right job - retired
Right case – govt. pension, right stat-single living alone
Awake when I wish – asleep when I wish
During my working life this only a dream

And now I’m here – whoopee – but no, still not right
At my age think a lot about dying and that’s a pain
Look this mother- daughter walk by
I know the girl thinks I’ll never be like Mom

‘Forever young’ lives on and on
I play that game – death lives in the other room
Push back my end date –at 50 I’ll take 30 more
At 60, healthy – still got 30

Keep this up and at 90, life at 120?
Why I can even dream a death bed me
Trying for the next sunrise
Retooling with ‘One day at a time’

Who said to our unconscious we are immortal?
That tiny cashier at my market, her voice at a whisper
Asked her age, proudly says Going on 90
Hands me back my case of Bud Lite, warns

Careful, it’s heavy


No girl or dear friend  
Just a fellow camp counselor who says

 How about a run across the lake?
There’s a general store

Ok, sure I say with no sense of breaking a rule
Though canoe flight at night not allowed

No sense of grand moment
Paddle in hand I step inside

But once shoved off and three strokes in
I catch the moon at its brightest

The lake all glass in blue peace
So that each drop, pull and finish of my arms

Gave me something at 20
I did not understand

Now, after forty years
That lake in calm

Wonder at the art of the mind
that takes hold and loves

Greg Moglia is an American writer whose work has appeared in over 100 journals in the U.S., Canada and England as well as five poetry anthologies.