courting, growing up,

a Jean Shrimpton lookalike

on my arm

punching above my weight,

halfway along Hawthorne

scene of many a childhood

schooldays game, I-Acky 123

or British Bulldog

rough and tumble

I have to stifle a smile,

~

we turn down Mulso,

through the alley to

skirt the top of the rec,

across Summerlee

past Patterson’s Farm

where scrumping was so easy

then down through the old quarry,

~

I stare up at Devil’s Tooth

and wonder why we ever

thought standing out there

on a little bit of rock

with trembling knees was

scarier than Everest,

in 1959 one of us pissed

himself, it’s still a secret

between us to this day,

~

into the cornfield, tall, dense

like the picture on an old

Shredded Wheat packet,

I hadn’t got a clue what to do

at first, then you were naked

on the flattened stalks and

everything seemed to just

happen in our Summer of ‘69

 

 

© Graham Sherwood 10/24