Steven Storrie- Three Poems

ON A COLD TUESDAY MORNING

She dangles her feet over Toronto

Cars and trucks like sick bugs beneath her
Don’t you wish we could always live this way
She says
Out on the edge with nowhere left to go
Come inside
I say
and we can talk about it
she looks at me coyly
smiles
shifts her weight and
swivels her legs

the hole in the skyline
is filled back in
and I’m breathing a little easier
than I was
a moment ago.

GOUGE AWAY

Just one more week

And it’s payday
Just one more week
And it’s vacation time
Just one more week
And it’s Memorial Day
A three day weekend
Thank the Lord

Soon the weeks pile up
like dead bodies
Blank faced and unaccounted for
The days like letters
stuffed into a shoebox

What I wouldn’t give

just once

to be
king.

THE HANDS OF HISTORY’S STRANGLERS

I had came here through a fog
Thick as bank vaults
Sweating on public transport
My feet getting wet in the rain
I was sick with despair and
the hour of the morning
The best part of me
left between the sheets

They wanted to know

my 5 year work history
with dates and addresses and names
all the shavings of my life
in a nice little plastic bag

The rain lashes the windows and
I stifle a shudder
Try not to vomit
As she hands me the pen.

What were you doing

5 years ago today?


BIO; Steven Storrie has worked as a cable T.V repair man, dishwasher, choreographer, ice cream vendor and junk yard attendant. Tired of this he is currently locked in his basement working on his first collection of poetry, bickering with his neighbours over nothing and storing the baseballs he keeps when they are hit into his yard. You can find him at the website he runs, 'Black Coffee For Breakfast', at http://renegadepriest11.wix.com/blackcoffeebreakfast