Druids and Drinkers

[tectak]

We spent all day
spread soft on woolen threads, woollen
bike helmets sided pillowed heads,
posing with corn stalks
on our lazy lovers rug. lover's

The grass was cut Victorian,
clover cooled our summer cheeks.
It took me a day of drinking
to find the Druid her fourth leaf. Love this. Whole poem here

I placed it as a pendent pendant
to her yellow white-green chain,
wore it crowned a hippy chick,
that fed on bags of fingered chips,
cradled in her lotus legs
whilst evening air
slapped straight our heads. Again. Great stuff as long as it is the chips she cradled in her lotus legs?

But the night had brought me more,
wobbling onto twisted slats,
we sat in the balm sipping beer gardens,
and still I thought it safe to ride,
my mind inside a crash test dummy,
I heard the groans of bone and blood
smashed into steel, just parked,
no one sat behind the wheel.

I'd slipped inside a tarmac curve,
you woke with swollen limbs
but ligaments would mend enough
for Monday morning limps.
You believed its luck ran out,
not much left inside the leaf,
just enough to get you home,
my state required belief.

I won't say I love it but I would not kick this one out of bed.
Best,
tectak