Three Cornish Sonnets

I.

Getachew's back from climbing some mountain.
James knows him well enough to call him 'Geech'.
He shakes my hand firmly, and I must look wanton

as he offers to get me girls. He is rake-thin.
We hang in his room and we talk, but not much.
Then 'Geech' plays us the themesong from Darkman.

It's the first song on his personal mixtape,
which is mostly hip-hop. His room's a pantry
of magazine cuttings and boardgames. No socks, sweep

of cast-offs, not a single coat-hanger.
James says, "It's good to be in your country
again, and we hang a while longer.

Then Geech plays us the themesong from Darkman
again, and we hang a while longer.

II.

In the day, we buy some golden, brioche-
like bread and assorted pick & mix, share it
out. My hair is well-liked, the thrash
of rain is welcome, my boots are shined,
I read Rilke, who is a pretty good poet,
and there is a heady, gingersweet wind.

At night, we hit bars and drink local brew.
When one of us stumbles we cheer, "Ziggy-zag!
In a restaurant, I arm-wrestle with Getachew
and lose. We each down two bottles of tej
(a thick, waxy honey-wine that's big
round here). The food has a spicesome edge.
And there is a heady, gingersweet wind
round here. The food has a spicesome edge.

III.

Getachew has the bikes ready by eight.
OK, I'm up, washed, ready to ride.
I pay him back the hire price, slight-

ly more perhaps, and we're off, downhill,
tearing up hairs from the skin of the road.
Past the Telecafé and the other hotel,

we whip between cars, making gravel spark,
then up the mountain. Here's where I stall -
at this altitude I get tired and sick,

and soon I stop to gulp Tangawizi,
then turn back, thinking, like a fool,
"It seems like Getachew's got it easy.

Past the Telecafé and the other hotel,
it seems like Getachew's got it easy.