The Little Gamer Boy
11 a.m.
(keep the curtains drawn)
the Sun’s a salesman selling hassle at your door,
(real life’s a bore…)
especially for this young space cadet…
firing up the plastic jet!
his Seventh Heaven simulator,
virtual respirator,
cross-check, headset –
(when a clip round the ear would be better instead!)
but who needs blue skies anyway when you’re on a
one-man mission to Mars?
let the VDU do the trick and wash the walls with
flashes of electric blue…
intermittent…
inaudible…
interminable …

and the Sun starts knocking at the window –
hour after hour…
day after day…
while his eyes grow cold…
(and colder still…)
turning to two sheets of plastic
Perspex,
bloodshot,
(shot to pieces!)
can’t stop and so the Little Gamer Boy
cracks open a another can of Coca Cola –
chiropractic accuracy –
to cut short the catalepsy and
carbonate his bloodstream,
sunbeam substitute,
he’s coming up for air…

but soon enough his index fingers start to
convulse like a
pair of pinball flippers on the brink of ignition,
any chance of adventure always ends with a
disheartened grunt,
poor lad
(this young space cadet)
his voyage never set to leave the ground…
less liquid hydrogen and more
bicarb and vinegar beneath his feet –
one acetous ascension,
(don’t mention that it’s all make-believe!)
and while my efforts of rescue are certain to fail,
I know the Sun won’t stop trying to make that sale.

In moderation…
With a pint glass resting beneath my nose,
I look longingly at the
cream-white head of an
Irish stout,
mesmerised by the
pinhole-sized bubbles that
sit in the foam
like the lunar surface of a
miniature moon –
the last few
millimetres of sanctity,
separating me from
imminent impropriety,
(but sobriety is overrated anyhow!)
and since white has no worth in the
absence of
black,
what good is her good without a
bit of my
bad?
(…magnolia x soulangeana)

Nathaniel Frankland is a 26-year-old Yorkshireman who currently lives in London. A French graduate, they now ply their trade in the Wine Industry but likes to spend much of their spare time writing poetry and music (usually with a glass close at hand!)