Ah' Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One

Ah’ Chris mate,

What a fate,

We’d laughed 

and cavorted

Before the fun.

I’d had sex

In Pompey

And lots of rum.

It’d take a lot

To make us run.

You in your engine room

Me in mine.

All seemed well

All seemed fine.

Your ship

Was knightly

Mine was grey.

As we both looked

Out on that mis...

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Cathy was my friend.

I was twenty.

Cathy was twenty three.

she worked 

at British Home Stores.

On the counter

where lipstick

and smells jostled.

Colours for the nose.

Candy for the eye.

She was pretty.

Very pretty.

We’d meet in 

The pub.

“The Cheese”.

We’d drink. 

We’d get stoned.

And go and 

have sex.

We didn’t 

make love.

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We took acid

Saw things

We stumbled across 

Hull university

Fields

With reds and yellows

Blues and glowing

Things floating

In our heads

So funny

We laughed

And called and yelled

And danced

And pretended

We were famous

Musicians

And we went home

We became a football team

And kicked the ball in

The living room

Where we did

Everythin...

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Oh god. Oh Dear.

A hangover in New York New York.

Small recollections through

hazes of alcohol pulsed pain.

Shaking fingers fumbling 

for coffee and cigarette.

In a dark wood cased  cabin

from sweat stinking bunk.

A million other people

who jerked through the same dance

Night before around the world.

I stepped in time with you.

On subways that fled past

...

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