AFTER THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT HAS BEEN EATEN:
A glitter-faced passenger woman waits at the gates in a black-faced
Audi to be let out into the night from a night getting wild in the
park. She, nor the leavers on bikes, nor security riding shotgun
leant on fences taking instructions from walkie-talkies, see me
changing out of wet & salty clothes in the dark with the lights off
in the little room at the front of the bus, behind mirrored windows.
After the lights have been dimmed, after the sound has been turned
off, the instruments packed away & lorries loaded I sit, wrapped
in towels, hunched over a cold meal of lasagna & veg, a plastic fork
& knife, a mug of tea, some chocolate (but not too much), something
sweet to take the edge off the sustenance withheld from a body
unable to retain it & sing & dance.
The security guard gets the call, the gates are opened, the car
is waved through, the glitter-faced passenger woman’s stare follows
the direction of the headlights of her black-faced Audi as the man
behind the wheel leans an elbow out the window smoking a cigarette
saying nothing. Their eyes never meet, their face never turn to one
another. I towel dry & slip on something clean, go downstairs
to the kitchen & make another tea, read the papers & greet the smiles
of friends who did magic again tonight, unseen behind the scenes.