Easy Saturday

late afternoon

drinking with bar friends

summer easy

heading into the evening

letting the day flow

no thoughts of destiny

& in walked

all of her black haired beauty

we talked a little

as I drank her in

I wanted her

she wanted me

it was in the air

the way

we couldn’t stop looking

at each other

I said come on

lets go take a walk

see if we like each other

we went out

found a quiet spot

corner of the park

& the talking slowed

we fucked each other

oh so quick

got that

out of our systems

struggled back to the bar

& sometime later

she left with her friends

& I remember thinking

oh, was that it?

later heard

she’d moved on

found another man

six months go by

I get a call

you want to meet again?

we spent time

she moved in

& I thought it was love

those words got used

it was good

all that loving

she wanted me

I wanted her

but the world

always gets its way

I was no good for her

having no plans

no ambitions

skills to sell

pay the bills

& we drifted too long

expecting somehow

maybe like the movies

that poor love

to find a way for us

until she pulled

toward a different direction

& she let me go

& I can’t say it’s often

but there are days I think

of easy Saturday afternoons

doors that open

with a beautiful black haired girl

coming through the bar door

with a smile

& I order another drink

Tulip

does not understand

when I say

hows’about one time

we could make this about me?

& it is possible

when watching close

to see her cogs turning over & over

when after all

she has kindly granted access

& surely that is enough?

she says ‘sure’

for after all

she has manners

‘I’ll give that a go’

& you know

now you’ve said the words

out loud to her

yourself

she can

never will

do so

avoiding the axe

with the dial on 35 degrees

it is difficult to think

of ordering the winter wood

to be split

ready

when the dial hits 2 or thereabouts

even harder to contemplate

the swing of the axe

make it thud

thud

thud

cleaving round logs

into quarters to fit the fire

come December

a start must be made

for these too to sit in the sun

drying out

stacked

temporary homes for

beetles

lizards

& the wasps to take their nibbled share

create their paper drays

ice rattles now in my tall glass

as winter ice will shatter my bones then

for now the sun warms me

creates these lazy days

hazy in the shade

under the high trees

also avoiding the axe

 

Oh really?

there is

or used to be

in good restaurants

cafes

Spain

southern France

a box of matches

in the toilet

on the high window ledge

for after you’d stunk the gaff up

you’d strike one

let it burn for a few seconds

to help clear the air

& leave

really?

he says

I’ve never seen that

I’d be nervous of an explosion

& everybody laughs

but I bet ya

next time he’s in there

he’s gonna

take a long look

Oh to be

Falstaff

him of a thousand sons

on the virtues of the grape

‘the sack’

as it was then

were I English enough

to carry the weight

of being accused

wasteful

misunderstood

misrepresented

mistaken in everything

but living

railing against empty gods

in vino veritas

salud

But a child

trying to find a way

between

out of

the cracks in your love

I feel like a lost adventurer

some mad explorer

marooned in a strange culture

where they laugh

at the inability to survive

understand subsistence skills

necessary to live

& I feel but a lost child

searching for escape

such hostile environments

all endeavour as futile

when nothing

you have

is give

grease on the wheels

You are not

alone

while there is company

people to talk with

share ice cream

relax

& spend time by

they

who will be there

when grandad falls

granny needs taking

to the hospital

shopping

& all this you hear

as inane chatter

is the grease

on the wheels

of family relationships

& no greek play

tragedy

can help explain that

My glass

is centre stage

I reach for the bottle

& they watch the pour

couple of inches

some atavistic rite

libation to the gods

in the spill

as we settle again

& I speak into the silence

the Spanish civil war

has separate state roots

that go back into the ages

& if we forget that

then we lose understanding

of why

when people

are forced together

this creates revolutions

anarchy

mortal woundings

& bitterness

that crosses the centuries

I see them nodding

& go for the kill

that is why

my love life is a ruin

I have poor relationships…

& they smile

& I wonder

is it for the glass

or its contents?

Too too too

Bar outside of Philly

man tells me

you’re too much

called me a pissant

as I beat his bar score

at video baseball

first lucky try

offered me a visit outside

dead end job

& the supervisor

gives all the easy shifts

to the ladies

cos y’know

the man got needs

called me a troublemaker

too pushy for my own good

fired me for insubordination

of course

better place to be

& the boss lady

tells me easy

you are too sensitive

to be in this line of work

wants to let me go

help me find salvation

elsewhere

& all I need

is the money

place to spend the days

but I think I got the message

from the girl

who did not struggle

to let me go

only with the words

you are just too….

too…too…much

Saudade

I will never know

fully understand

what bound me to you

kept me coming back

travelling miles

hitchhiking

riding clapped out bikes

just to come see your face

each visit

months apart

to have to leave

go away in the night

back to my working life

maybe the innocence of our youth

just us

two young people

trying to find a way through

you were like a sister

wanting the best for me

& all I wanted

was to be there with you

until the time I returned

you

your family were gone

& my people

did not understand

to keep your letters

all of them lost in carelessness

& now

all I can hope is for fate

to send you back around

again