Posted in Passages

Curtain Fall

Clothing and grooming – instant carbon dating
denim and John Lennon
long-haired men, unshaven woman
shoulder pads and bouffant
goatee and cargo pants – naval start and crop tops –
places in time.

Stubbies they were called,
brief fashion infection circa 1980 – 83
men’s shorts, functional and acceptable
barbecue to blue-collar to sub- management
50% ubiquitous.
And niche to the same years, a moustache –
Magnum PI derived and 85% ubiquitous.
Stubbies and a moustache
is what comes to mind when I recall Patrick :
pale blue and lip hairlines that didn’t join
a finger width of flesh in the middle,
two snow ridges to a bare summit.

I was young, new and eager
eager to be successful and liked
jump on the count of three –
would’ve jumped by one.

With Patrick, nothing – instant frost – just add water.
A kingdom with an elderly monarch
and middle-aged courtesans
he was the young prince – had been for a few years
and now I was here,
it wasn’t me he disliked. It was succession.



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.