Post by Tomorrow's Writers on Apr 28, 2012 21:55:08 GMT
Hitching home for the first time, the last leg
being a bummed ride in a cold guard’s van
through the unmanned stations to a platform
iced with snow. It’s not much to crow about,
the trip from one term at Portsmouth Poly,
all that Falklands business still to come. From there
the village looked stopped; a clutch of houses
in a toy snow storm with the dust settled
and me ready to stir it, loaded up
with a haul of new facts, half expecting
flags or bunting, a ticker tape welcome,
a fanfare or civic reception.
In the Old New Inn two men sat locked
in an arm wrestle - their one combined fist
dithered like a compass needle. Later,
after Easter, they would ask me outside
for saying Malvinas in the wrong place
at the wrong time, but that night was Christmas
and the drinks were on them. Christmas! At home
I hosted a new game: stretch a tissue
like a snare drum over a brandy glass,
put a penny on, spark up, then take turns
to dimp burning cigs through the diaphragm
till the tissue gives and the penny drops.
As the guests yawned their heads off I lectured
about wolves: how they mass on the shoreline
of Bothnia, wait for the weather, then
make the crossing when the Gulf heals over.
being a bummed ride in a cold guard’s van
through the unmanned stations to a platform
iced with snow. It’s not much to crow about,
the trip from one term at Portsmouth Poly,
all that Falklands business still to come. From there
the village looked stopped; a clutch of houses
in a toy snow storm with the dust settled
and me ready to stir it, loaded up
with a haul of new facts, half expecting
flags or bunting, a ticker tape welcome,
a fanfare or civic reception.
In the Old New Inn two men sat locked
in an arm wrestle - their one combined fist
dithered like a compass needle. Later,
after Easter, they would ask me outside
for saying Malvinas in the wrong place
at the wrong time, but that night was Christmas
and the drinks were on them. Christmas! At home
I hosted a new game: stretch a tissue
like a snare drum over a brandy glass,
put a penny on, spark up, then take turns
to dimp burning cigs through the diaphragm
till the tissue gives and the penny drops.
As the guests yawned their heads off I lectured
about wolves: how they mass on the shoreline
of Bothnia, wait for the weather, then
make the crossing when the Gulf heals over.