Brambles

DS Maolalai

drunk as a bumblebee
busy at litterbins,
I make my all movements
in honey and glorious 
slow. bea is sat 
at the new kitchen
table, hugging her shins up
and talking with chrysty— 
gui has just gone
to the bathroom. and they're not
my friends really—they're more
chrysty's friends— 
I haven't had that much
to tell them. instead 
just drank quietly,
listened to talking, until words 
become brambles 
to kick. there is meaning— 
a joke there—I go for it, hard 
like a bull at the side
of a bullpen. 
make sentences flutter  
and drive them as pigeons
go up in a crowd
in a panic. 
and chrysty looks down 
at the two empty winebottles, 
and at me, and my bumblebee 
eyes. says baby, 
you can go now
to bed if you want to. 
these guys will go home
pretty soon.