P.A. Levy

Lucky Chance

arcade overture of jackpot pay-outs

and alien decapitation 

oh happy day

you had a handy ready smile

practiced by the seaside child feeding

a shove penny machine with two-

pence pieces and we danced

to the pay-out tunes and thought about

getting an early eighties synth-pop

band together

then your phone rang with a blue

monday ring tone

someone’s sad they don’t

know where you are

i was blowing away bad bastards when

your smile took my hand and led

me into the chip shop

all soggy hot in vinegar with 

a shanty’s worth

of salt how it should be you said

if we were by the sea

instead of in the city that we’ve become

wearing our nameless graffiti tagged faces

as an urban love expression

blue monday played again

we didn’t dance and then you left

if it had been snowing

if it had been sand there would be

footprints

i’m left holding a half-eaten bag of chips

in the depression of your afterglow

radioactively neon with the fall out

of locked up city shops and amber stars

on sticks

now i doubt even i exist

Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk, Pushcart nominee P.A.Levy has been published in many magazines, from A cappella Zoo to Zygote In My Coffee and stations in-between.  He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective and can be found loitering on page corners and wearing hoodies at www.cluelesscollective.co.uk.