SO?:
It started so typical for a hunkered day of damp hands stuffed deep
& cold as dead man’s fists in pockets full of shredded bits, small
change & sweet wrappers, sticky pink knuckles craving company up on
the heads of the valley.
But
here in sunny Essex the mist evoked such romance, memories through
time’s dewy lens all rainbow hallo’d & leaves dripping delicate
xylophone rhythms onto the barbs of hawthorn hedges.
I always look back to that lost time with fondness, why?
The rain was miserable back then. We were misguided, hungry for a hit,
a record deal or anything just wandering the wilderness with only an
outside toilet & a bucket full of lime for comfort. While the boys in
that band ate magic mushrooms on toast for breakfast I growled back at
them, spitting,
“Damn Hippies!”
into the mouths of scrumpy curdled demi-johns, reasoning it kept me
warm, in the daily damp & cold. We cursed the lack of girlfriends,
fantasising as only 20 somethings do, weaving tired & late on empty
roads we crashed the car again on another night drive back to Cardiff.
Was it just sleep deprivation that time we rammed your dad’s car
as he towed us on a rope back to the bright lights? You forgot
your brakes, he scowled, we laughed, as broken glass lay sparkling
in the moonlight.
(K)
Karl Hyde 