Hopeless and Topless

Meet you down the Torchwood Tower, she said,
when I phoned her over a coffee
from inside the Senedd.
What colour is the wind today, she added,
like a comedian,
knowing full well that my synaesthesia
was giving me gyp
so much so that I had to walk to Tesco Express
and buy a Daily Mail.

Shorty faux leopard-print coat,
black liquid-look leggings,
a black Alice band,
flats, black.
In a carrier bag
purple, clip-on, toy angel wings
(just purchased) I note she didn't bother
to wear them to meet me.

She's been growing her hair long
for ten years.
I absolutely adore it
in an it's OK way
but I can't fool her.
She shakes it and twirls it,
lets the wind blow it on me,
lets the sun highlight it
(each shadow carefully, precisely, planned)

She wants a coffee
and I guess I'll buy her one.

Back in the Senedd it's hot
but she won't be taking her coat off.


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[The Senedd is the building of the National Assembly for Wales
- on the waterfront in Cardiff Bay]


~ ~ ~