~ two-bit poetry on a stick ~

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Tony
28.01.07 23:37

We sat on benches made of concrete
Carved with the names of people
Who loved the sea, here in the gloaming.
Dates and times are not important,
You said, it’s just the earth turning.
The benches were painted
Morning piss-yellow by the lazy sunset.
You were snug like your lover
Was holding your hand.

We heard the sea.

You wanted to build one too
You said, we’ll do it
One block at a time
We’ll paint it yellow
We’ll scratch our names in
Before the concrete dries.
Who said this love
Was never carved in stone?

Did you scratch your name
Deep enough to set all
The angry tongues wagging.
Is it true you drove down
The wrong side of the high way
Because she wanted her flannel robe,
Even though they said
She wasn’t gonna make the night.
You wanted to keep her warm enough.

Her skin was frail thin
But she smiled still
And said she felt silly
Behind the scarf she hides behind.
You let her pick her coffin.
She wanted to have a choice
At least, on that if nothing else,
Wrapped warm in her flannel robe.

Did you ever
See Asia, walk on Voortrekker Road
Like you said you would, after she’d gone
You said you were gonna leave this place, you said
But you were gonna ask me first
About what it’s like in my world
And if people sit on concrete benches
Just to feel safe too?

You never came round so
I drove by your house today,
Your bench pale sickly yellow
Overgrown by pink geraniums
That half-hide your names
The dates and times
That you said weren’t important
Already starting to fade.
And you sat there with her
Tucked in the warm folds of her bathrobe.

And I heard the sea.

************

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