Posted in Lies

Credulous

Silver haired and self-assured. Charming.
He was willing to help

Nothing was a problem
generous with his time
afternoon slides into dusk
he offers dinner – basic but filling.

We are a spontaneous collection of mountaineers
a mixture of hard experience and soft dreams
Four planning to climb a test piece peak
but only having equipment for two.

He is managing a nearby ski field
we ponder if they have any surplus equipment
expecting to be rebuffed but surprised.
Yes. It was a quiet time. It should be okay.

Four people did we have a second rope?
No. It would be much faster. They had a spare.
Only later is the significance realised
when an old climber intones two things in life are never lent
a wife
and a rope.

The start is an hour’s walk from the village
we can borrow his car.
I look on in amazement at the generosity
I would love to have.

After success a celebratory drink
only coffee but seeming like Scotch
deep and warming
a surprise visit from our benefactor
he kisses the only woman of the four
full and lingering.

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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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