Mood Swings

I went for a mood swing today,
I let myself suddenly
down on the slatted seat, and
stubbed my feet on the air.

Flew high as a kaiser, spurs
whirling in the
free breeze of my anger.
On the up, I howled
round curses on the fool heads
bobbing on concrete below me. Fell

back, to lurch
giddily
up the quibble
of self-pity. I retched
forwards with wet wefting my
heavy lids.
I was fright, nursery in darkness.

Tested its mettle, skied
my moods through black arcs,
rocking the cold chain
or rattling my nerves through
ninety degrees.

I came off dizzy, scorching
the skin from my lip,
glaucous with tears. I lay
breathless on the rubber chippings,
nibbling my tongue.

My mood dangled just above me,
waiting for playmate.
It grew pitch. I had to crawl
clumsily upwards to find
its splintered edge.

In the morning, birthday: they
brought me a fat stack
of terrible present. Poles,
the blanket draping eight feet
of unwrappable something.

My very own mood swing. Just;
what I always want.

From the book Looks Familiar