You've got a ginger cat!
A great big ginger cat, right?

No

Really?

No, I don't

I could have sworn you had a ginger cat - 
big fella, still has his nuts?

No

You sure?

My neighbour has one

Really? Could have sworn it was you

No

What kind of cat have you got then?

hundreds of happy geese
as far as the eye can see
possibly thousands

a man in a poncho
unshaven, lantern jawed
cheroot clamped between
badly stained teeth
strides with great purpose
down cobbled streets
past artisan baker
and high-class butcher
past bijou jeweller
and chi-chi designer
until, upon reaching 
Ye Olde Whisky Shoppe
which appears to be
the end of his trail
grinds out his smoke
hitches imaginary steed
to imaginary hitching post
removes silver spurs
quietly enters
tipping his Stetson and
in a rasping voice
redolent of heat and dust
a voice full of weariness
and vast distances
politely enquires
if anyone knows
where a man might find 
something to drink
around here

then someone says
out of the blue

as if they'd just discovered 
some hidden truth

it's like a shoe!
it's like a Chinese woman's shoe!

Webley .455 revolver
circa 1943
Desert Army issue
lightly used
in good condition
kept in oilcloth, boxed
complete with cleaning kit
and three cartridges
in cursive script on box lid
onset of dementia, for the use of

it's the elephants that get me
more than the lions and tigers
more than plumed horses
or unfunny clowns
in pointless exploding cars
high wire artistes
one slip from paraplegia
cartoonish strongmen
or spinning women
it's the elephants that get me
real elephants, kneeling

my grandfather was a small man
my grandfather was a hard man
a wiry man, straight of back
with jutted jaw
a man who fitted perfectly
inside a British tank
a man who was unlucky
to be hit by Rommel's shrapnel
and lucky enough to survive
a man who, every birthday
bought for me, and me alone
the best book he could find 

with hands that smell of roses
with cool hands
with perfect almond nails
she strokes my hair
settles back into the chair
the one beside my bed
crosses her perfect legs
smiles that smile
opens Treasure Island
and begins

a man in suit and tie
still grips the wheel

of his Citroen DS
the entire roof is missing

the roof of the man 
is missing too

blue and red lights everywhere
and many people dancing

the poor man just sitting there
in the cold and wet

you want to help somehow
but what could you do?

my father keeps on driving
the dark closes back in

the tinny radio
plays tinny late night songs

as we cross the border
through torrents of rain

some found her rather fey
a little light in the head

I thought she was interesting
the way her hands danced

the careful way she spoke
without a sound