Twenty years ago he’d tagged onto
a west coast fresher’s beach week
fancying the fair-haired Emma
Careless immortality and drink and pot
pitch-dark grope into wrong room
into wrong girl,
girl unknown, unnamed and un-protesting
he apologetic
externally enforced hasty exit in the morning
externally enforced hasty exit in the morning
Today east coast Portobello beach,
his yesterday-discovered by coincidence
(she rescued him after drunken fall from wall)
daughter tells him he would benefit from fresh air
before she tells him what he needs to know.
[Another poem for National Poetry Month which is a poetic version of yesterday’s T10 post which will eventually reappear as a short story somewhere, I hope. The next episode will appear on T10 later today. I changed the title of this blog, which orginally contained the word recycling because it was attracting some very strange attention!]
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