The Failed Mechanic Speaks of Love at the Corner Bar

He said:

'It's a different way of making love.

It involves giving the other
a two-part estimate of sorts:
what areas of the body should
be lingered over now. What
can be lingered over later.

It's keenly diagnosing
the emotions so the fitting
of flesh to flesh
is done right the first time.

It's also about the gift of promise. These
things, you should understand, take time.

You must care enough to pay
attention to those parts
that receive the least care:
the soles of the feet for instance,
the delicate skin of the wrists
that turns into the rougher
skin of the palms.

You are honouring needs
with the least hassle
and, also, the least haste.

Never forget you are providing
repairs, making delicate amends;
showing that - with all your foibles -
you can be honest, you can be trusted.'

Mark Jason Weston

Originally published in The North 25 (UK)

Leda with Pelican

Another well-read idiot, he arrives on the scene
all distensible pouch and brown feathers.
She is on vacation, delicately beached,
slowly grilling pale bikini-clad flesh.
He swoops down for the slow, insidious
rub-a-dub as reggae vibrates in the background.
She is aware of such misguided imposters.
And having heard of these sudden inept
violations she waits out this brown blizzard
of feathers, the pathetic flapping wings,
the quick moan then sad dribble of his viscid ooze.
This lack of staying power does not surprise her.
Her eyes sweep the horizon over a feathered shoulder
while the surf withholds its thunderous applause.

Mark Jason Weston

Originally published in The North (UK) 1999