I can say au revoir
& not miss a heartbeat
hoping that to be true
other times
vaya con dios
wishing god to go with you
even if the gods
i’m thinking of
may not be the same
as those you want
ciao
always seems
chirpy
happy
like a laters’ people
but that goodbye
there have been so many
that hurt
were final
ripped feelings
out of a face
being stone
for the parting
adieu
I do have friends
a very few
to say select few
is to be unsure who selected who
those who love to get me
into troubles
those who will never hurt me
& then
one or two
who have let me down
these are the apres
after disaster ones
whose badness
& mine
I know for certain
we are fickle
us beasts
holding on to each other
for comfort
in a world
that holds sell
as a prime mover
& despite all that
we try to hold bonds
of trust
& dare I say
love
built over time
good times
& those long mediocre
inbetweens
I can forgive the now
if we have strong history
you have made good memories
with me
without that
life is nothing
friendship
can not exist
From a first
possibly
uninterested glance
all old people look the same
it is only
as you get closer
you begin to find
their stories are all different
from another time
tune
mainly you hear
the lack of noise
that young’uns have
& that special
not giving a toss
their peculiar lack of care
from having lived
through
revolutions
higher times
lean years
fat years
& how these beasts
look much the same
with the long lens of history
their avoidance now
becomes
hospitals
noises in the night
scares in official letters
invasive tests
holding unhappy results
& all we see
is the neutral clothing
tan
beige
oatmeal
caramel
taupe
worn
possibly in the hope
blend in with the others
to not be an easy target
as the grim reaper
comes closer
I am of course
a towering adonis
flaxen haired
high cheekboned
lantern jawed
stick thin
& special
in possibly a universe
or two over
I come from peasant stock
lucky enough
to have avoided transportation
for minor crimes
to sunnier climes
we wear our poverty
profound within our bones
the short legs
wide shoulders
of an eternal line
of labourers
existing between thin meals
skinnier wages
& the threat of eviction
that tribe
never holding a name
after the loss
by the roman invasion
demanding tithes
respect
or the lash
Durotriges no more
end of the Deceangli
days of the clan
looking out for each other
now destined to be
proud citizens
free
to starve for pay
going to school
holding hands
with my big sister
over busy roads
which are but side streets now
understanding
that this was not a space
that would be good for me
I did the cry
run home thing
then the fighting with teachers
I knew deep
this place was there
only to steal my soul
whatever I understood
of that then
this vast impersonal theatre
that made everything personal
in its attack
yet held
an incredible defence
adults versus kids
& victory can only come
later
as you refuse
to be like
them
I could do sports
played for the school
rugby
hockey
decent all rounder
& then that all just faded
I found girls
music
the workers of the word
& wanted something more
than what was on offer
& tried to strike out
find a new path
not that it hadn’t been worn
over the centuries before
just new to me
& now when anybody
maybe the plumber comes
to fix the pipes
or the carpenter
putting doors in
when you talk to these guys
riff a line
a phrase or two
that brighten their eyes
they still
will not
could not
even dream of
putting their hands
in their pockets
in exchange
for the workers
of hard won words
cautious
has never built
created a thing
in his life
he knows what he knows
& holds himself tight to that
which does not stop
his criticism of those
who tried
sometimes failed
& tried again
until they did
what they needed to do
thankfully
he’d not gained promotion
because these are the people
who kill the world
& while you don’t want
to disturb the man
you do want to shake him up
shift
that attachment to a safe life
he wants it
you feel it
by how he likes what
you do
wants to be part
of your life
even if
the unending critique
gets hard to take
from a fella
that won’t
can’t
do
