Friday, August 24, 2018

And other mistakes

Some I pushed away
Some I just let go.
Uncertain on a foreign street
Amber catching the beach highlights
Awed my virginal eyes
After years, the airport, when you cried
A phone call over oceans
When I said there was no one else to turn to
And cried.
The grey air in that manhandled flat
Grills on the windows
When you returned
Charged the air like coming thunder and said
“He said don't cheat on me”
The door, an invisible valve
The candles you lit, if I stayed
Till they dripped together into their plates and shook
So wise, gentlemanly, I thought
To leave unknowing for the next party's entanglement
And revenge, caught in somebody else's war
The door was like a valve. I recall
A mind full of abstracts, taught ideals,
That lacked a sherpa's barefoot intimacy
With the undulating track, details
Each hillock, stone and rock, how imperfect we all are.
The wintered Hackney streets
Through greyed snow, when spring was within
And concrete felt like rubber underfoot.
Some I just let go.

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