So I completely ignored the prompt today. Actually, the prompt started it off, but it changed into something else. I was originally going to write a poem of just declarative sentences about Prince Harry, written in the style of American Psycho but instead, I seem to have written this. I just got back from a poetry evening in Manchester called Shaken tonight, where I debuted this poem (not long after writing it). It’s about growing up, and it’s called Imagine Heathcliff
Imagine Heathcliff’s favourite band were the Holloways
Heathcliff has gone vegan to bring his cholesterol down
Imagine Heathcliff does Zumba and that’s how you met him
You met Heathcliff at Zumba.
And you go to the pub with him afterwards and it turns out
His favourite drink is a rose wine spritzer
And you get to know eachother better and you find out
That Heathcliff was on the Apprentice but got fired on Episode Three
(Before the audience had any real chance to get to know him)
Imagine for a short time that you were unaware of, Heathcliff was
Your local ombudsman, and had an “open door” policy because he was
Always happy to help.
And imagine that leading up to the olympics, Heathcliff was
Really excited, and started wearing a union flag hat
And bought Pimm’s, and organised a street party
Where he offered free face-painting for the kids
He said it was worth it just to see them smile.
Imagine Heathcliff is late to the twitter game
Imagine Heathcliff is on twitter but he only follows weathermen.
Imagine Heathcliff is actually friends with the weathermen.
Imagine Heathcliff is drinking spritzers with the weathermen
And the weathermen only wear yellow macs and sou-westers
It’s always raining in the corner where the weathermen sit
And the weathermen are suspiciously young but have all grown
Moustaches, and you’re starting to doubt the validity of their claims
That they are indeed weathermen
So now imagine Heathcliff and the weathermen have started a band together
And play one of the smaller stages at ATP.
And imagine Pitchfork give their album a score of 8.8
Imagine Heathcliff and the Weathermen are cooler than you
They’re so cool that now, imagine, you’re in love with Heathcliff all over again
Imagine you become their roadie
Imagine you’re at Benicassim and H&TWM just supported LCD Soundsystem
And you check twitter and Heathcliff’s been tweeting about it
But he’s doing twitter wrong
He hashtags full sentences, why does he do that?
It’s never going to trend.
Imagine LCD Soundsystem are huge fans of H&TWM and
Suddenly you’re all partying together and drinking Champagne
And someone goes to pour Heathcliff a glass but he puts his hand over the glass
And says: “No thanks, I’m on the spritzers tonight”
And now imagine Heathcliff comes up to you and puts his hand on
Your shoulder and says:
“Remember that day we met at Zumba?”
And you go to kiss him but he turns his cheek away
Because he’s saving himself for marriage
But what if you and Heathcliff really are made for eachother?
What if this is the man you’re made for?
Imagine the children you have with Heathcliff!
With your eyes, and his everything else
Because you have to imagine Heathcliff is gorgeous
Imagine Heathcliff is taking his money from the H&TWM franchise
And retiring at 40.
And now imagine Heathcliff is taking you back to West Yorkshire with him.
Imagine Wuthering Heights now belongs to the National Trust
Imagine you’re finally going to Wuthering Heights and yet you’re forced
To walk around it slowly by a tour guide named Henry
And Henry makes things up about the book that never happened
Imagine Henry is claiming that Cathy and Heathcliff once
Waltzed together in the parlour when they actually never did
And imagine Henry looks like Heathcliff but with a beard
And now you look around you and it dawns on you slowly that
All the men on the tour of Wuthering Heights, taking pictures of fireplaces
Are just permutations of your Heathcliff
Imagine you could marry anyone and they’d still just be Heathcliff
Imagine you look again to the dozens of Heathcliffs and they’re all smiling at you
And you go up to any number of them
And you kiss them in front of their wives.
Imagine you marry the original Heathcliff
And someone kisses him in front of you.
There will always be more Heathcliffs.
So now, imagine you run out of Wuthering Heights
And onto the moors, until you’ve exhausted yourself
Imagine you dramatically fall down on the crags
Imagine you accidentally pirouette gracefully as you fall
Suddenly in a diaphanous white dress which swirls up in
The beating rain and wind as you collapse
This is all you have ever wanted
To die for love of Heathcliff, out here on the moors
And now imagine you’re falling from a great height and
As you fall down on the sodden heath
It’s actually a bed.
And you wake up.
Imagine this was all just a terrible drea
And now imagine you reset your alarm on your radio
To allow yourself another hour’s sleep
But just as you do
Imagine Heathcliff comes into your room
With a tray of brioche and a selection of conserves, for breakfast
And you look down at your belly and you’re 8 months pregnant
And that’s Heathcliff’s baby in there
Imagine Heathcliff gets back into bed with you
And calls you honey
Imagine this is life now
Imagine you got what you wanted and Heathcliff is here now
Imagine your name is Catherine
Imagine Heathcliff has never heard of that Kate Bush song
Imagine Kate Bush never existed
And you’re having this guy’s baby
And Wuthering Heights has not yet been written
And Emily Bronte is no such a person
And Heathcliff is just a name people have now
And it’s 2019
And you’re suddenly 30
Imagine all that
Welcome to adult life.