Blue Movie

Bobby Parker

• Publisher: Nine Arches Press
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781911027522
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Poetry
• Index: Literature

Bobby Parker's poems play truth or dare, baring the soul of the small town blues: undaunted by subject matter and fearless of propriety or prettiness, he writes with dynamic clarity of frightening, lonely places within and without our selves.

In this debut collection, Parker holds back on nothing – both daringly up-front and utterly candid, Blue Movie veers between disaster, horror, comedy, sex, drugs, love and parenthood with dare-you-to-laugh brilliance. Along with their starkness and mucky-faced honesty, these poems are meticulously crafted, canny, and always one step ahead.

Car Wash

1

I want my daughter’s voice

without the background

hiss of hoses.

Her I love yous

like the earth-flash

reflection of passing birds

across a queue of dirty windscreens.

2

Wake up with the first

blast and wait for the engines.

Repeat the words Car Wash

using different accents

until my morning

boner wilts.

3

The man from Environmental Health

gave us monitoring equipment.

He said he lived

in a peaceful part of town.

When he talked down to me I stared

at his tie, ‘Mate, that’s a nice tie,’ I said. ‘Whew!

That’s a fucking really nice fucking tie, man!’

4

Our daughter quietly

watches her parents

disassembling,

searching for glue.

I tell my wife I think we’re coasting and we need

help.

Over her left shoulder

hooded figures count money

by the car wash gates, water

spraying through sunbeams,

hopeless sunbeams.

5

‘Hey you! White boy prick! Why you

complain? You want us to come see you tonight?

Ha ha ha! We come see you and give you something...

Come over here, we talk about water. Look,

everybody love water. Everybody love a clean car!’

6

At night I stand outside, opposite

their locked gate, praying to evil magicians.

I talk to the dark wound above

these silent flats, turn my hands

into guns and shoot the blue rags they leave

to dry overnight

along the rusted spikes.

Snatch them!

Squeeze them in their sleep.

O Lucifer!

O Crowley!!

O Daily Mail!!!

7

She calls me dramatic.

I know she’s right; it is only a car wash.

This prison cell can also be a bedroom.

This voice

something we can dance to.

8

Do they play cards in that caravan?

The caravan where they wait

on slow days.

Days of rain and peace.

I like to picture them playing cards.

Stopping when they think

they hear a car, footsteps, God’s

whiny voice on the radio.

9

I tell my friend not to blow

kisses at the car-wash men.

She ignores me,

giggling.

I don’t think they know

or care

that she used to be a man.

They stand very still and watch us

catching

snowflakes with our tongues.

10

I have seen too many

silent couples

smoking on the pavement

waiting for the boss

to give the sign their vehicle is clean

so they can go

wherever it is silent couples go

on Saturday afternoons

in stupid England.

11

I haven’t been

stabbed yet

Mum.

12

Sorry Dad,

I...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Copyright
• Title Page
• Contents
• Dedication
• Factory Spirit
• The Opposite of Excitement
• H.G. Wells
• No Screaming While the Bus is in Motion
• The Other Boys
• Particles
• Sketch
• Signs of the Son
• Heartbreak Delirium
• Darker on the Floor
• Edwin
• Crossbow
• 3:06 a.m.
• Nightlife
• Ducks Staring Into You
• Palpitations
• Best DAD in the WORLD
• Blue Movie
• Jealous of Your Fighting Skills
• Dummy
• Car Wash
• The Thing
• Shut Your Mouth
• Other Partners
• Isobelle 6 a.m.
• Knots
• The Silent Man
• Snow Hill
• Flippers
• Fuck the Moon
• Poem in Which You Blame the Demon
• Jellyfish
• Heroin Lullaby (or Open Letter To My Wife Upon Our Separation)
• Acknowledgements