The two partners eye each other,
With undisguised longing.
Each wants the climax to be their own effort
But fear it’s powerful finality.
Dressed in red, she trembles (yet threatens)
The promise of many, teeth and claws
Hidden by her curtain.
Finishing her vodka, she poises her equipment
Teetering on the hazy brink,
Ready for action,
She lies waiting with the ultimate promise,
For her far away lover…
He is vey strong,
And believes his own lies,
Stripes on his arms,
Drunk on self importance,
The power aphrodisiac.
He has decided he will blow her mind,
And they must cling together,
In the final frenzied act,
In which the earth will move,
(And never move back)
He bares all, no longer caring,
Desire crushes logic, the time has come,
And the tips of the rockets emerge from their holes.
Long and strong they rise, hydraulically upwards,
Nudging skywards, up and up they go,
Sparking, pumping, forwards.
The lovers lost lethally,
The final greedy entrance,
Leaving all partners dead.
This is from Harrogate ‘zine Kvatch, number 2, 1984.
Ian H was the editor of Blackburn ‘zine Just Four Minutes.