Two poems circa Shetland

Last lager in Lerwick

Eyes broken
long lips soft as a leer
fingers fall apart
as this brain spins
breathe on me
as legs intertwine
those eyes finger guitar
torn skin.
Lips fringe upon lips
old lips that remember.

I am

I am, but what I am someone seems to care
I am so lost like water tossed
stoned as lumber by the fireside.
Strangers staring strange toward the strangers
slotting into here and there.
Never though finding that perfect spot
I never moved from.
I am driving about Town in an invisible car
I never needed.
I am now a solaced soul
sitting with her when we dance.
I am but what I am is not me,that man over there is not me, those
hearts on my sleeve at last so free.