She dreams of dyeing her hair blonde

Champagne. Scandinavia.
She smoothes the names
along her tongue. Should she go
for gold, as sleek
as the star of a daytime soap,
or advertise herself
as a platinum Monroe?
Here is the bleach.
Here is the ammonia
that will irritate her nose.
She will bury
each stagnant brown strand
beneath a chemical sheen.
Maybe she’ll cut her hair short.
Maybe being blonde will turn
her laugh into gold dust,
her walk into a bounce,
her thoughts into words
that shimmy out of her,
that burst into bubbles
instead of earthed, mundane
inside her heavy brain.

She dreams of going to the cinema on her own

Buying a ticket for one.
Pronouncing the name of the film correctly.
Waiting with other matinée-goers -
students, tourists,
a woman with her arm
through her mother’s frail arm,
while film-star cardboard cut-outs
wobble, smiling, on the red carpet.
Choosing a seat, it’s groan
as she pushes it down,
folding her coat, clutching her bag -
thieves are sssilent.
She hears a cough.
She hears the crunch of popcorn.
Nobody in front of her
nobody to her left or to her right,
the lights dimming -
a slow eclipse of the world.

She dreams of living in Brighton

On days like this she’ll visit
the Wai Kika Moo Kau café,
drink mug after mug of hot chocolate,
feel the sugar and caffeine
sweeten her mouth, startle her veins.
She’ll walk to the beach at sunset,
as the gulls and starlings flock
to the ghost pier’s skeleton,
circle it like recurring thoughts
in a pink meditation of sky.
She’ll watch the orange sun
make tracks beyond the horizon -
past Brighton, past Hove -
like the last train of the evening,
travelling home.

She dreams of riding a camel

She swings up as he rises up
onto his back legs, then his front,
until she’s higher than the tops
of people’s heads.

Now she’ll steer him,
grip the leather reins, dig her heels
into his sides, into his bristles
as he gallops through the heat,

his hooves thudding softly in the sand.
She’ll bump and wobble but she won’t mind,
riding him through to the other side
of the heat-haze –

reaching cool air
without headaches, sunstroke,
or other camels stepping too close.
A strip of white sand, and then the sea.

She dreams of eating chocolate orange brownies

She’s always surprised
by the pang of orange
inside each bite of chocolate.

It’s like she’s five years old again,
eating brownies at a family party,
swinging her patent-shoed legs.

The pile of brownies on the table
with bagels and chopped liver
set on best china.

The careworn chatter
of adults around her
swirls into buttery warmth.

She dreams of handing in her resignation

Inside the white envelope,
which her coffee-breath
has sealed tightly closed,
her blood is spreading,
her tears leave a damp patch.
She carries the envelope
along the grey corridor,
across the patchy carpet
of her boss’s office.
When her boss opens
the white envelope,
she will recoil
from the stench of coffee;
blood and tears
will drip from the descenders
of each word, roll along and down
the lines like slow pinballs,
land on the mahogany desk.

She dreams of snow falling in the night

Early, in the empty park,
her snowshoed feet will make
that first, fresh crunching sound.
Then she’ll lie down, stretch out
her arms and legs,
wave them in the snow
to make a snow angel.
When she gets up she’ll recognize
the shape she’s made as hers,
her small, blurred imprint.
She’ll know that no one else
will stop to see it
before it’s covered up
with further snow,
or freezes, then melts away.
She’s been through this before.
A remembered sense of whiteout
starts to fall.

She dreams of climbing a mountain

She’s packed an extra Mars Bar,
a bear-scaring bell, a kagoule, an inhaler
and a flask of champagne.
She needs the silence spread around her,
the crunch of stone and snow
beneath her hiking boots.
She’d like to stop and chat
to the mountain goat, ask his advice
on how to reach the peak,
where she’ll plant her flag among
the neat rows of other flags
like lines of washing.
She needs to be giddy at high altitude,
to look down from the peak
to the thin blade of highway,
at its toy cars below.