Pensées

In the park I’m
                      watching bees
            quibble
with the laws of aerodynamics.

Throbbing
                 like outboard motors
                           and payloaded
with nectar,

they dredge
        the air
   for spores
swooshed with the DNA

of foxgloves
         and pansies
              velcroed
to their hairy legs and abdomen.

I think
            of cocaine,
                think of
dandruff

stippled against
the navy blue
              collar
of a Ted Baker shirt,

and then catch myself
            sniffing the air
    for yesterday’s fresh
Egg Mayo on brown

served by a girl
                   with green eyes
                         and a smile
bright as Elderflower.

Andrew Boobier

If you've any comments on this poem, Andrew Boobier would be pleased to hear from you.