Posted in Passages

Double Take

I went past before cognition ignited,
Yes, it was there, three decades ago
and four wheels this time.
“ Look out on a summer’s day ” sang Don McLean
I was :
concave of coastline: point, headland and lighthouse
blue, blue sky
travel poster perfect
two wheels, propelled by gravity – downhill.

Inattention – his or mine?
He said it was me
swerving out as he overtook,
so the post hospital policeman told me. I disagreed.
The officer said, “you were left unconscious –
recall cannot be relied on or be considered reliable.”
The insurance company concurred paying only the minimum –
goodwill they said.
Blamed and short-changed for years I was affronted
now, I agree with the policeman – I was lucky to be alive.



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.