can we talk?

she asked end of a class

being open to discussion

on any subject being taught

I gave a sure

well I feel

you are an angry young man

inside I groan oh here we go

these dark projections history of men

she feels slighted by placed upon me

& how? I asked gentle as I could

how did you form that opinion?

well you deliver ideas with such force

I hear the undertone

the chip on your shoulder the issues you have

ok I try again

do you understand transference?

she pooh-poohs all of that

so I say tell you what

stick with the course & we’ll talk again

end of the year how’s about that?

but no today is a telling me what’s what day

I try we’ll be covering projections

how we see people is not always who they are

let’s talk again then I’ve got another class to see

& as I walk away I feel her eyes on my back

I knew nothing I could say might shift her stuck feelings

but hey we have to try anyway & now she feels good

this fierce feeling entitled pink princess

has made the angry young man run away

first

I first came here as a boy

shorts t shirt plastic sandals

expecting nothing

but the beach

& maybe later an ice cream

then later on bicycles with friends

hoping for love on a shingle beach

with the local girls

& maybe later a pint of cider

much later we came as a marauding horde

on motorcycles

finding easy love on that shingle beach

with the local girls

& many pints of cider

things to smoke around a driftwood fire

& maybe gaining sleep

for a few short hours before leaving

& now

I’m walking through those journeys

taking the time to see the houses

how they’ve been built up & on

watching the birds on the foreshore

finally getting an ice cream

no cider no girls today

on that shingle beach

no local girls to love me more

just me older no wiser

walking through today & yesterday

fought

fella was becoming unwell

did not know

if next year he could do

anything everything

he wanted to do

we built the road trip around him

looking at maps

checking he & we had the right kit

talking through the months

before we hit the road

& from mile one

he fought us the whole way

had forgotten this that

had brought nothing but himself

gave nothing to help

but wanting nursemaids

do his bidding on the way

being brothers we chided

spoke straight what he was doing

was just plain wrong

& when he broke down side of the road

we helped him fix his bike

would not take on the load

pushing him back into shape

much as he pushed right back

wanting & forgetting

what had made us brothers

the discipline of responsibility

washed in blood

& fealty

hair like silk

maybe six months

tops

she was in my life

my nights my bed

& of course

my head

& then gone

like yesterday’s rain

tomorrow’s to come

& now

I have memories

hair like silk

soft curves here & there

nothing

but nothing of her

sure I met her people

talked of life

schools universities

music films

books we both loved

but amongst all that

something

of her essence

who she really was

went missing

oh I think I was listening

heaing the words said

gone like silk

slipping thru’

my fingers

clogging up

I could hear

feel the body

in my bed

I didn’t dare

utter a name

in case

I got that all wrong

so surreptitiously

I checked

hair colour on pillow

eyes closed

on that beauty face

sighed relief

I was safe

there had been

other times

when the ex

had invited herself

back in

I’d changed locks

addresses

& tho’ she hated me

she said

I’d find her here

early mornings

clogging up

my bed

sabbatical

that time I took away

from me

from you

the public personae

from our world

I wasn’t hiding

being that then

I was doing

preparing

for my return

in a better state

of mind

I didn’t miss

the drink

the drugs

the social whirl

gossip

rumour

innuendo

I cleared my mind

of them

of you

of others

still stuck

in their rut

that takes

all of us

away from living

how we want to

open up

she wants answers

to the same old same old

questions

& I want to answer

being a pleaser

to people

who can’t find

their own way

read what I wrote

find a clue

or two there

tell you how i

really feel

see the world

& she does not understand

how I fight

wrestle the words down

put down

what I see

hear in the world

there on the line

is the truth

I hold today

tomorrow

might change

but this is the best

I can

be giving you

but she can’t read she says

yeah I go I know

two sticks

those were leaner times

having nothing to fall back

lean on

getting by day to day

waiting for that pay check

for a little living on the weekends

to give something to look forward to

remember in the week

you & me

building stories

to build a romance on

thinner

than the soles of our shoes

when the reality

we were two sticks

washed out to sea

slow drowning together

before finding a cold shore

to be thrown onto

dragging ourselves

up & along

searching for warmth

& that survival in itself

was worthy of a romance novel

but no

we had to lie to each other

ourselves

to pretend

we were worth more

sideways

being introduced

staff room coffee time

my new job at the university

& this bucko chuckles soft

this is Neil

he has a ah chequered history

but is here with us to do…

& he doesn’t see it

but I’m looking sideways

at the man

chequered history?

because I didn’t follow a line

go to college

then university

then going on to working here

the same old place?

because I wandered some

trying my hand

getting to do

try what I couldn’t

things that I can?

I’m looking sideways

doesn’t he see?

I have the same qualifications

did the same exams

maybe in a different order

but here I am today

being introduced by a bucko

on the same pay scale as me

only half there

there was a search

arms akimbo pat down legs arms

rummage through our bags like

we’d be stupid enough to leave anything to find

these institutional people not understanding

some of us had played these games

before we could walk

my first taste aged 1 to 3 in a kids home

where I learned not to be present

fully there meant pain not pleasure

the bigger kids these aunts uncles

meant to look after preferred menace

keep us quiet in line cowed scared

bigger kids taking us for everything

we knew it was us ran the place

not these bully wage slaves

but the price we paid everyday

was learning to be hiding inside

only being half way there present

keeping the real for when we were alone

the laughter the joy the tears the pain

waiting for another time to come

some later day saved up for the rain

but back to this harassment now

have you finished? can I go?

beginning the walk away

knowing there was nothing they could do

stupid big kids thinking they had power