consignment

that get to be gone place

where the Friday Saturday night girls went

they’d appear by my side for a while

be fun companions stay the night

then gone with the dawn next day

& some might appear again

stay for a month or so

then be lost forever

consigned to history

distant memory

& now I wonder

is that the same place

where my dead friends go?

here for a while only

like all of us fools are

making the most of what we can

then consigned to history

memories of times gone

some to be forgotten

others to haunt

in idle moments

long nights cool mornings

with a wry smile

& a warm feeling to come

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surely not

frozen saturday afternoon sipping

after another long frustrating week

& my friends were coming over

have a drink for my birthday

there were four or five here already

for some first we had chance to meet

since last years blow out the same

& I was thinking take it steady

there’s a long time from 3 to 12

when she walked in from the cold

wearing a white dress blue panties & bra

thinking oh no they got me a stripper

got all of that bullshit to deal with now

being kind I offered to buy her a drink

while she asked if dave was here yet?

just as he came in thru’ that same door

I see you’ve met suzy my new squeeze

kissing her neck accepting a drink

& I was confused in myself now

not knowing if I was disappointed

or just about pleased

this was not what it seemed

possibilities everything laying open

walking down your stairs

after a night sleeping together

driving into the city

dropping you at your work

me going to mine

when all that meant something

we were building a dream

picking you up

taking you home

looking out the windows

to the possibilities

everything laying open

& all we had to do

was to keep picking up treasures

young lovers in love & lust

that’s how life seemed then

been misheard

darkest

before dawn

but I was awake

wide awake around five

thinking how I’d once

been misheard

by the hairdresser I was seeing

sitting in front of the mirror

watching her flow

I love what you do

got translated in her head

to I love you

& she ran away

leaving her equally nice

but less talented friend

to finish the job

which ended that line

of free hair cuts

friendship relationship

she didn’t want

to be with someone needy

& I needed hair trims

now & then

but not somebody

scared of words feelings

or appreciation

of a job done well

beautiful in the symmetry

I could never learn

to brown nose

oh I’d try half hearted

but it always came out wrong

& they’d start hating

in that nice way to let you know

the feeling runs bone deep

so I’d fuck with them

go in wearing my trouser pants

keeping my chain biker wallet on

loose fastening my club belt

or Fridays take my riding rags in a bag

leave it open on the floor

leave the chop tick tick cooling

nearest bay by the front door

to get away on the dot of close

roar of exhaust smoke & noise

roll a three-paper loose leaf cigarette

standing outside in the rain

with the gossip smokers

snicker as they’d edge away sniffing

before running to the boss

do the squeal tell-tale telling tall thing

kept a vodka bottle full of water

in my bottom desk drawer

half inch of spirit floating on top

knowing they couldn’t fire me

as I wasn’t stupid enough

to be drunk drugged sweary in paid time

& they needed what I did for them

it was beautiful in the symmetry too

to just to recognise

my feelings went bone deep also

watcher not in the act

looking for me

taking photographs of each minute

watching the scene as I wrote

looking for me

to bring the moment alive

I started asking

c’mere baby can’t you see

you’re the looker on

the watcher not in the act?

shhhhh she whispered

I want to capture what you got

but I knew what I held

don’t come in rattle cans

hygiene wrapped from the market

only exists in the fleeting

frisson between me & you

& that kind of magic

can’t be pulled from the bag

ordered for the capturing eye