Sesquipedalian

I found him in a draughty house

Reading a book by Stephen King,

One I'd actually lent him a few years ago.

He looked like an accidental moirologist.

I squatted down next to him and saw

He was on the last chapter. Then I 

Tried to talk to him about the past;

Some kind of cold comfort.

Regret: a dish best served at subzero temperatures.

He wiggled his fingers around mine, twisted them,

Entwined them. Refused to shut the book.

That hot, bland night, eight years before,

Following pasta twirled round forks

And condensation on a wine glass, low voices,

After our fierce tredipation, the fear of our own monology,

That never quite wore off,

That night was raw on my skin.

I was convinced that with that behind us,

The specks of doubt would drift away;

Your frustration at my graphomania

And my high-brow hypocrisy, with my phd

On Marlowe and my shelves stacked with Pulp Gothic;

My impatience at your stubborn facial expressions 

And hyperbolic hand gestures.... You were blank.

You did not want to dance with me.

I left you on my shelf, between Thomas Hardy and Douglas Adams.

Now

Opening my eyes on to the page of his face

I see the marks where I turned down the corners

And left grubby stains. There's also

A Waitrose receipt, trapped between chapters,

And a Wine Gum squashed to buggery.

At school, girls snatched greedily for the 

Shiniest copy of Doctor Faustus and Wuthering Heights.

Chaucer, even.

But trewely

The old copies are the best.

I love you, my second-hand paperback.

His face creases into a smile; Stephen King slips from his hand.

The he-sized dent in the futon remains.

Tonight, it is vacant for him. 

 

Reviews

[.]

awesome!!!-I love the way this reads!!!
the imagery and use of narrative mood-
i think is just perfect!!!
I love this!!!---Superb!!!

J:)

[mope]

I love your love of words a foot and a half in length - and the drifting in and out of literal meanings - and the gratuitous scatter cushions of irrelevant details. But you evidently have no respect for shelves in alphabetti-spaghetti order. Shame on you :)