Michael Conley
Perhaps next time we could meet at the trampoline place
on the industrial estate? They let grown adults in now.
I want to hold hands with you mid-air, watch your hair
fan out like coral fronds when I recall it later in slow motion.
Or else at the UK National Hot Dog Eating Competition
egging on the champ as he honks down thirty-four units,
your head in the nook of my shoulder, both of us pleased for him
but knowing he stands no chance against the American.
No worries if not. Listen: nobody wakes up in the morning
thinking hope I puke up a lasagne in front of my date tonight.
Maybe this could be a funny story we tell – well,
not our grandkids. Work colleagues. Hairdressers. Waiters.
I am normal. I have hopes and dreams, normal ones.
Michael Conley is a poet from Manchester, UK. His work can be found online at iamb, Interpreter’s House and others. His pamphlet is available from Nine Pens Press.
andotherpoems.com 