electric socks…..
that’s what I remember
bright pink I think

I was ballast
not in a bad way
sometimes silence is the best conversation
sat in Angus’ post-card clad room

beat poet –
the mersey sound –
that’s what you were
opening the souls of the young
to the rhythm sound of words
and the talking toxteth blues

what I have now
is your signature
inside a penny arcade
– Cheltenham, Nov84
but I’m no gleaner of thoughts
from pen and black ink
staring at me from the page

you’d come to read poetry
I’d come to fill the room
vaguely aware of who you might be
annoyed at my ignorance
determinedly mute
a quiet soul
of the meet and greet delegation

then you were off
taken on a tour
of liquid haunts
before wakening our minds
to pictures painted
with different coloured words
to mourning for something that was never there
in your penny arcade

electric socks…..
that’s what I remember
bright green I think…….