'The gestures of delight are her delight.'
Notate October's last hurrah.
'Dear Cameron, You have an undigested
John Forbes influence,' wrote Gig, a decade past.
Digest, instead, the dusk –
raven's eye, white sails, a barking dog.
Little Suzuki under the plane tree –
fat mags on a blue Commodore.
'Mount thy charger in the gloaming, Kev.'
Should I reflect? 'Is it omelette time?'
More wine. Gig's no brick,
that's for sure.