I caught the words
late night
I guess in the space
where I could take them in
& I heard the rhythm
melody
the arrangement
to carry the song on
but there
under the line
I caught the words
understood
the pain expressed
given out so free
covert beneath the rhythm
arrangement
sweet melody
& hidden in plain view
the loss the hurt
the derangement
of a lovers
infidelity
I guess I was in the space
where I could take the words in
understand fully
it would seem
the only authority
now
is yourself
as in
nobody wants to listen
be told
anything
by anybody
anymore
try it
I reckon
you’ll find out
my need for outside
v your shut-in ways
lack of understanding
that this thing we have
life
is about adventure
new experiences
getting better
at what we do
while you fuss
about appearances
the toys
to indicate affluence
evidence of who you
think yourself
to be
soft easy furniture
heated surrounds
to watch the box
see the world
second hand
not that this happens often
or much
but
if I mention her name
his face goes awry
like he’s holding on to something
that he thinks I don’t know
& I want to say
let’s just let whatever go
that you might have had
with her
so long ago
I was done with her
she with me
& if you want to spit it out
do so
but let’s not pretend
about something
so long ago
I did not understand
being little more
than weened
the empty house
furniture carpets gone
all this space cold
no food no mother
something gone wrong
& some time later
I found her in another home
another child another man
& I tried to understand
feel some connection
warmth from her hand
& when I visited again
different people living there
no forwarding address
no letter no note
no ideas as to where
but I did begin
to understand
we have been like this
for over a year now
one topic of conversation
the great derangement
where people turn on each other
call hotlines to report
what they feel to be
transgressions
no touching no holding
no kissing no love
backs turned in the street
to pass
we are the enemy now
to be avoided
shunned if you please
I fear it will be years
until we return to be
when we were free
at the seafront
sitting in the café
The Penguin
feeling sanguine
first time in a year here
indoors with a cup of coffee
some kind of nice cake
staring out the window
while the girl
with eyes like mine
ignores me
got her ears in listening
to what I don’t know
she knows I’m here
she knows I know she’s here
as the sun glistens on the sea
the wind blows the thin hair
of old ladies to & fro
feeling sanguine
at the Penguin
maybe it was
the light in my eye
way of talking
thinking strange ideas out loud
but I was always impressed
how others knew clear
way before I did
I was not of their kind
just a passing through man
destinations unknown
& there were times I dearly
wanted to be part of a crowd the crowd
but no maybe it was
the light in my eye
talking odd thoughts out loud
amongst people who will tell you
we like ideas like to discuss
but no there lies the smokescreen
the ideas the discussion was always
what they knew feel comfortable with
where that for me was a starting point
looking into the void
maybe it was the light in my eye
a madness keeping me out
of the crowds
& I couldn’t see this at all
but they always did
way before me
I think he’d been third violinist
an orchestra in Sweden
but he’d quit though I’m not sure why
if he didn’t want to talk about that
I was certainly not one to pry
we were students together
which I was bored with from the off
it was all this is how things are
no back & forth no reasoning
no learning from exchange of ideas
just suck it up & spit it out to others
ours not to reason why
he had a battered old blue volvo
I called the battlestar due to its size
& we’d go out to explore the world
find strange places to sit think drink
try to figure out where we going
the love the ladies the work
& just knew he’d be ok
he was sucking it all up
being given ideas things to say
& knew too after our indoctrination
I’d never see his face again
the third fiddle always knows his place
there are a couple of schools
trains of thought
on these things
this place I’m living in for now
has Les’ wandering the hall
whispering in the bedroom
that he’s not happy
with the furniture
pictures hanging on the walls
he bought this place in the 50’s
when it was brand spanking new
moved in with the missus baby daughter
over time they either grew up or moved on
but Les’ grew his tomatoes
talked with the neighbours stayed on
part of his community
until last years the dementia
walking the streets bathrobe slippers
looking for something that had gone
& now he strolls the hall unhappy
with the changes we’ve made
the two schools of thought here
one being that ghosts walk amongst us
the other I’m mad as the hatter
again
