WEST RIDES HOME.

TWO SCHOOL BOYS AND TALK AND A GIRL IN 1961

West rides home for lunch
then back again to school

he is a short tubby kid
with black well-oiled hair
slick as silk
and eyes dark
as oil wells

I see him enter
the playground
in his bright coat
and tie and neat
white shirt and well pressed pants

how was dinner?
he asks

I bring sandwiches
I say
can't stick school meals
lessons are punishment enough

he smiles
offers me
a white paper bag
of peppermints
mint?

I take one
sense its coolness
on my tongue

how's the maths?
he asks
any better
with the time tables?

I look beyond him
towards the girl's playground
but she's not in sight
other girls play skip rope
or tag games

got stuck on 7s and 8s
I tell him

he frowns
and  talks of patterns
and number flows
and how it goes

I watch his lips move
but the words are like gone
like dandelion seeds
in the air

a girl waves
is it she?
I wonder

but no she wouldn't
not her style
too shy
some other boy
has that joy

another mint?
West asks

I take another
to keep the freshness coming

he doesn't talk of girls
or their ways or clothes
or figures or hair

he talks of how well
his new bike runs
and how he likes
the shiny blue
and the loud bell
he rings
to clear his path

over the heads of boys
I hear a girl's laugh.