YEP, that’s him chatting away
Half gulped finger clad pint in hand
Some other time interesting points
To be clipped at the great they/them
The unheard dross of piped music
In the din of downed brew and drawn debate.
There she was slinkilly shuffling in the low light,
To the four two four slow tempo of the band
Swaying, swans grace, songbird steps
with her hands by her sides
Fingers flared out,
in a light dress of quantum possibilities
Mirroring purity in bobbed boyish hair
framing penetrable eyes distantly musing
I don’t care, really really don’t; how do I tell him
In his alcohol warped fragile state
Proufounding importance on puerile
Never tomorrows to access and perspectively place.
Another, not yet, or will say yes, to bar-tie him and
catch a wisp of ancient heart etched lines
Galactic distant under glitter ball
How to wistfully weave
through smouldering movements
To get by all, to all and only that shines,
Before that poltroon in the shadows
Stumbles upon Summer’s
youthful Saturday night’s treasure
Devilishly distract him, find a key word to set off
A trading rant of monopinion, ignite his brain, and start
well-deep thinking in self absorbs ion and muttering
In open-ended maze of cul-de-sacs while I catch that clarity
Of when words held a future
Botechillan linear grace, with smirkful nod
pressed its slightly tilted shampoo fragrant head
softly saying “so was I”, in reply
To my heart-raced clumsy line
of wished to grt here first
While Eric’s Lespaul gently wept
All washed out of his steaming rage now
Weeks grit, grind and gripes becalmed, unwound,
To coil up in sleep drenched in forgetfulness
Whilst I catch the fade out of youthful anthem
Chance to descend to my living past
Of warm night with bright star lit skies
Summer sunrise mornings
when time was immeasurable
Where valiant vitesse triumphed
in slow low lit dances
And clamping was something
sweet and shared
And, the songwriter framed it so clearly:
JUST ONE LOOK