Time erodes
sweeps sand from one heaped midden to another
exposing gnawed
bones
burying secrets.
It's been twenty years
since I last saw you. Twenty years.
Do images of seduction still attach themselves to your florid walls?
Fractile beauty fragged - eyes, lips, limblets posed
oh, just so.
Do I sound bitter?
I don't mean to be.
Anna
you were my kind of, sort of, best friend.
We presented at local dances.
You: Black-sheathed, glossy-carapaced.
Cheeks two triangles of shocking pink
spiked heels wicked as sabre teeth.
Me: In homemade hand-me-downs
a desperate posy fainting at my waist.
I watched
while boys boomeranged in your presence
till one sufficed
and would draw you away to the wild thump of music.
Summer nights
we sat
bare thighed on concrete
listening to voices slippery as sex - Jagger and Jackson
Bowie and Mercury.
Mosquitoes
seemed the whispers of conspiring prophets.
We slapped them
turned our minds to the skies and swam with the stars.
Stretching languid fingers
we balanced planets like diamonds
horoscoped our futures
prepared for impossible
and predictable
dreams.
YOU ARE READING
Looking Glass Friend
PoetryTo all my dear friends. Those I loved but did not know, I did so. Those I let go because... well... I could no longer face your understanding. Those who let me go because... I could not help them. How could I? I could not help myself. You are still...
