in intermittent jolts, like a train carriage butting
its forerunner, like the hairs shot by my electric

razor straight into the beartrap of my lashes
or the stutter of rain on a day like this one - like

how I strike through my To Do list, or how I make up
my mind to do something, like cannonfire or Nicholas

Cage acting well or like phonecalls from home
or the shower's skutting start, the goliath wave

that turns over the boat. I know this is no way
to do it - and I know, just as well as you know

I should love you like a bobsleigh
run, like the laser gun in Metal

Slug, like the wind that won't leave
my Homburg alone or the adverts

that play in the cinema foyer
like I drink when I get in from running.