TIMES BEFORE.

A BOY AND GIRL IN LONDON IN 1967.

You met Julie

in St James’s Park

as was arranged

(better than some

 

pokey hole

at the hospital

she’d said)

she clothed in jeans

 

and open necked

blouse

a thin jacket

on which

 

she lay

and you’d already seen

the ducks and swans

and the telling

 

of her latest

cold turkey plunge

and four lettered expressions

of the nursing staff

 

you lay on the grass

beside her

taking in

the sun

 

and sky

her talking

along side you

you seeing her form

 

from the corner

of your eye

she smelt

of oranges

 

fresh pressed

her voice carried

bittersweet

her hands conducted

 

in the air

some invisible

orchestra

you remembered

 

that sexuality

she exuded that day

at the hospital

how it was then

 

the best sex ever

she’d said

love this place

she said suddenly

 

breaking out

of her tale telling mood

my parents

bless their

 

middle class souls

brought me often

as a child and

on she went

 

words spun like silk

and you laying there

taking it all in

wondering if she’d

 

break out

of the grip

of her addiction

wondering if

 

she thought of you

each time she undressed

in that ward

before bed

 

that best sex

of all times claim

still ringing in your head

where after this?

 

you said

oh

she said

there’s this cafe

 

I adore

in Leicester Square

we’ll go there

and that was it

 

all sorted

except it wasn’t

as such

the future

 

is some distant land

you may never reach

some shore

you’ve dreamed of

 

and ached for

many times before.