© Ryan McGoverne
Adventures
“We have heard of such towns – Aberdeen, Grimsby, London” (George Mackay Brown, Vikings: Two Harp Songs)
These days, I have adventures with smoked paprika
by kitchen striplight, marinating chicken with garlic,
olive oil, cumin, coriander, black pepper, turmeric.
I hear that one can buy the ingredients in Grimsby,
that central London has already piloted electricity
and microwave ready meals. There, it's still very
possible to plug in, switch on, and experience
total lack of power, but I demand my thruppence
worth. Here, at Leith's cutting edge, the blue rinse
is back in fashion, safety pins are driven through
eyeballs, and I have branded a designer stew.
The musos have given up pontificating on new
music, as a revolutionary gesture. They say it
died as an artform in a club in Aberdeen, '68.
They're now into fluffing the perfect omelette.
‘Omelette! See it, say it, sorted!’ is their slogan.
Eggs intimidate me, their hard faces. I log in
to egg sites and their bias against chicken
is a turn-off. I wish smoked paprika restored
my high. Where is London anyway? I scoured
a map, found only Luton. No, I'm not bored.
Rob A. Mackenzie is a Glaswegian poet, editor, reviewer and occasional translator. He lives in Leith. His poetry collections are The Opposite of Cabbage (2009), The Good News (2013) and The Book of Revelation (2020), all published by Salt. He runs the literary publisher Blue Diode Press.