“I feel there’s something missing”
—Squeeze, ‘Up The Junction’
Cheers to the mirror with a beer.
A knockdown rotisserie chicken for dinner.
I am all of the things
For myself now, and probably will be
For some time to come. But if I’m being honest
With myself, I have been
In my own world for what seems
Like all of time, only now
I have the space to autotune
My own reflection, whilst undoing
Every past lesson.
And so
This wish bone is all mine! As are all my
David Chase dissections
And analytic
Observations, judgements
For me to deliver and assess as I see them
Alone, this all
Much better than being asked, “What oil would you like,
Babe?”—argh!
He seemed
Undeserving of her attention
And shopping trolley
In the supermarket just now
As I got my chicken, the mummy’s boy.
But
Somebody’s boy nonetheless, wasn’t he (though too shy
To climb in the trolley for her, weren’t you—to jump about
For her like I would). And who am I
To anyone
Now that I only sit alone, drinking
With my silent phone? But that’s right! I am the ever-so
Ever-so good boy
Waving at myself in the mirror, that’s who: “How do, big lad!”
And I am ever-so
Ever-so clever with it all, as I only
Get to answer back (for now)
As I redraft.
ashley dunn 
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