Poetry

I’m a Poorly-Rated Sitcom Doctor and I Still Love You

5 March 2019

I keep forgetting to donate
the coat in my car boot
The black one with button-lined breasts
that I never wore, not even once

If I could tell previous me anything
I’d say: Do not buy the coat!
It is a bad, woollen dream!
You are anticipating a future, coat-wearing you!
She does not exist!
Buy an anorak!

It’s the middle of whenever,
which means I’ll scratch my neck into a blush
I drop a mint in my bag
and in that spot, I still love you

I try not to think
about microwave meals on couches, chip packets
licking leaves in the gutter
A stranger on the train says to
Keep the dream alive!
and it’s code for: interminably this hillside
still loves you

In another life I am
a malpracticing physician
Rotten under pressure, my training was for naught
It’s a comedy! People die!
The parents weep
for my jilted law practice but I meet you
You have a concussion
and we bond over bad weather
and I love you
and the narrative arc is tolerable

It’s anorak season and my fists are half-formed

A scarf unravels
and the cold clicks its heels, with my
tall sitcom teeth
I still love you


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