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My better selves

Final Frontier

Jamie Richardson

Sitting outside in early Spring, at the café on the corner

in the company of one or two of my better selves,

still sleepy and cloaked in the comfort of our thoughts, we quietly

followed the steam that rose from the basements

and met the aroma of bacon and coffee, nestling

beside the roar of cars, and the city babbling. Later,after we had eaten and came to, we found

that our blood ran hot in the early morning; drunk on talk we

debated the bliss that’s found in silence.

Comfortably now buzzed by each others thoughts

I savoured the slow spreading warmth of the knowledge

that we all just talk and nothing ever happens.

‘This is the final frontier’ said the friend

as my eyes revolved around ice cubes in my glass.

‘The world, it’s all figured out’.

Unchartered thoughts, still drift and plume through the

club, and lose themself in the night.

But space is bounded by the small corners in this room

I jangle skies and oceans in my pocket, like loose change.

'Only minds and bodies left to explore.'

Swathes of faces that stretch from wall to door

 dissolve in the fuzz that pulls me in on myself.

Jamie is a thirty something Londoner, recently exiled to Kent. In between bouts of chronic procrastination he somehow, sometimes finds the time to write poetry. Find his work here>





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