blushing when you stutter
you search for one excuse to linger
he needs change for a buck
you’re due back at work
he’s such a cute stranger
here’s where destiny hits you like a truck
on the other hand maybe just a really great —
© Alex Ankarr 2015 All rights reserved
Image Andy Miccone, public domain.
the paperwork’s a bitch when you shoot lightning from your hands
getting paid by angry clients is no easier it seems
and then there’s the spandex ‘cause it fits with people’s dreams
if not the same time every night
if you’re lucky, he understands
you have to fight and fight the good fight
(even though dating a lawyer or a cop
you’d think they’d know the drill
the bad guy don’t go home and shut up shop
just because your guy has needs to fulfill)
but count it up at the end of the day
the grateful appreciation of the populace
and a mundane boyfriend with super-powered cuddles
go a long long long long way.
– Alex Ankarr, 2016
Photo credit: gunner111, https://www.flickr.com/photos/moto101/
“Your prescription now is stronger,”
My optician says to me
He only means to give the dimming
Fuzzy world a clarity
You, I’ve not explained to him yet
He has not asked that I do
Only wants to know my headaches
An alphabet recital too
Think you I’ll love you less dearly
If I see you sharp and clear
If I see your flaws my dear one
Once I excused myopically
It’s not the case, although it should be
I love you not for fuzzy glow
For radiant halos stemming only
From faulty curve of lens, I know
I love you for your faults, you bastard
And when I see them close and sharp
I’ll pull the hornrims off my nose, dear
Vowed haloed angel, sans specs, mit harp.
© 2015 Alex Ankarr.
Image – Zuukuo Wuu public domain.
a bouquet of roses,
of diamonds and baby’s breath
a few stars thrown in
to confuse over scale
and Satan peering from a black black hole
deep, deep, deep in the vase
a bouquet of roses
roses, foxes and diamonds
diamonds and baby’s breath
breath, and a few stars
the scale is confused
and Satan’s in there too
peeping out a black hole
gravity in the vase
down deep, deep
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2017
Image – Vaughan’s Seed Company; Henry G. Gilbert Nursery and Seed Trade Catalog Collection, no known copyright restrictions.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2017
Image – Ludovic Bertron via Creative Commons Licence
pleased with pleb vitality
contempt for hothouse blooms
I was a dandelion, she thought
from under tons of concrete, tons
broke anyway
through a hundred metric tonnes of rock
a smiling flower at the tip
poking through
© Alex Ankarr 2017
Image – Orest Ukrainsky, public domain
burn a few petals at a home-made altar
incense rises up
caffeine’s done its job but good
proof’s the dregs in the cup
tribute is silence
creeping around
silent feet, for him
working stiffs
don’t get much sleep
it’s a gift, for him
clock says
{chimes}
it’s two a.m.
the birds and I, we can’t sleep
but we
{chimes}
can keep
the peace for him
at least with a shotgun
disturb a few feathers
and leaves
image – Mark K. https://www.flickr.com/photos/17708700@N07/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/
Latest iteration of my Pam Grout-inspired tarot card, Kali the librarian of destruction! An improvement on the first efforts, I feel. I’ll be documenting every stage of the game here, because this version was fun to do, I’m quite happy with it so far and I’ll probably be cocking it up completely at some point! So she’s currently unfinished – but don’t worry! She’s completely ‘armless, Guv!
And she’s got a rack on her, cuz I’m rollin’ that way!
And maybe some of that readiness has to do with Caspar not just being a regular service person, being formally educated, being suitable, being someone liable to be approved by Mack’s parents. Maybe some of it has to do, maybe, with Mack actually having a thing for service people, for slumming if you want to call it that, for being the prince picking the serving wench out of the crowd. Who understands their own motivations, really, when it comes down to it? Who has motives that are perfectly pure?
Maybe some of what Caspar likes is the shiny, handsome TV star, after all. Is he really in a position to judge? Maybe he’s been looking for a white knight, and that’s perhaps a little unrealistic, too much of a weight to put on someone.
But the truth is, Mack wants him, has wanted him, has declared it more than once. Is smiling and warm and pretty damn brave, to do it this way. To do it this way twice.
Caspar wonders if he’s done enough, to deserve somebody like that.
But it doesn’t stop him. He leans forward, right forward, and grabs Mack as Mack grabs him back, and their kiss is loud and deeply un-shy and extremely public. And it’s sweet. It is, undoubtedly, given Mack’s tastes, very sweet indeed, like candy, like cupcakes. So are the cheers, so are the ‘ooh’s and ‘aaah’s. And in the background, whoever it is who’s torturing the piano starts up again.
***
They finish the special birthday cupcakes later, in bed. Mack adores his birthday present. Or rather, all of them. (He gets several, from that kiss onwards.) Mack decides he has a new regular order. In the bed, there are crumbs everywhere.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014
No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.
Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.
‘And I would like to thank especially,’ he says, and his voice is a little soft now, so that people at the back are craning visibly to hear it, ‘Caspar here, Caspar Rockalde. Who has brightened our lives since he took over Honey Bunny’s, less than a year ago – who has brightened my life,’ he corrects himself. ‘Who is everyone’s favourite barista and baker and bakery service person,’ he says, smirking at Caspar, and it’s funny how it was an insult coming from Adam, and is an endearment coming from Mack. Especially when he’s dressed up like he is…
‘…and in whose honour I am done up to the nines in my very favourite shade of pink, and I think you will all admit that I look damn fine in it – nearly as fine as Caspar himself!’ Caspar thinks, at this moment, that his cheeks are rather probably as pink as his overall, and is glad to have no mirror handy to check up on that. ‘And to conclude,’ Mack says, ‘and I’m sure you’re all glad to hear that I intend to conclude at all…’ Oh, he gets a slightly snide cheer at that, and everyone laughs. ‘I would like to invite Caspar here to blow my candles out. Hey, cut the smut,’ he advises, sharply, at the whistles that receives. ‘And to ask him to take a look at my cake, and to ask him for the birthday gift he deems appropriate, looking at it.’
Well. No-one ever wants to refuse a request from a birthday boy, now do they? And Mack puts his arm, rather more gently than usually, upon Caspar’s shoulder, and draws him close, to look at the cake. And oh, Caspar sucks in his breath, because they’ve fooled him mightily. This is the cake he oversaw, that much is true enough. But they’ve removed all the little figures, and instead someone has done a rather fancy quick icing job, under the happy birthday. It’s of two mouths, kissing, with not much greater detail than that, but very perfectly done – very beautifully rendered. And he thinks of the cakes he has ready for Mack. Who is standing looking at him with great hopefulness, and has not after all required any gesture of Caspar’s own. But has come for him again, has asked again – in public, again, – has pursued him, again. And it seems like more than enough – that Caspar has asked more than enough, too much, of him already, and Mack has come through, has done enough to win and earn him and more.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2014
No unauthorised reproductions allowed. All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.
Photo credit: duncan johnston under Creative Commons licence modified for book cover use.
