Author: tq1695

Amongst her fellow workers
she was regarded with covert disdain
seen as too willing and eager to belong
At first impression it was difficult not to concur.

Blonde and vivacious she stood out
clothes folded tightly around her beauty
leaving no mystery or imaginings of form
a costume drawing warm male applause.

Men cast her as the dizzy hair colour
she happy to be on stage
in low neckline and high skirt.
Life, the shriek accompanying the pop of a cork.

Appearances were deceiving
beneath the label a vintage of thoughtful complexity
layers of fine tuned observation, with a strong finish
an astute judge who ruled, but reserved judgement.

For the few acts our roles overlapped
the cast was impossibly young – migrants,
commuting between education and career
life a subway station, arrivals, departures and delays.

We mostly rode separate trains, at different times
only twice did we share a compartment
each time I was bequeathed useful advice –
ambition can be the destination of artifice.

And
then a deserter from the trench warfare between
men and women, combat weary,
shell-shocked
the foxholes had turned me into an atheist of love.
You must change she said sadly
or you will never know romance.

By Philip Larkin’s famous dictate
sex was invented in 1963,
it must to be the one poem everyone can quote.

At high school : dust for poetry,
Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, Manly-Hopkins
Catholic education conservative during my time –
the contentious avoided, ignorance equivalent to innocence
then university, where science rigidly divorced literature.

Larkin was in his 40’s when he penned those words
as was I, when first heard
titillation, and then
memories of an image faded from youth.

An afternoon twenty five summers gone
a generation ago, a man two generations before my own
time lapsed symmetry – parallel comings of age,
in perpendicular economies, half a century separated.

Released by graduation into a celebratory journey
a two wheeled view of my country – a temporary gypsy
at day’s end, cold beer, hot showers, self satisfaction
his, soup kitchens, flour sacks and vicarious misery.

On arrival he seemed to be waiting –
billowing white hair and friendly wave … almost a salute.
Particles of memory arced from dormancy
he had pedalled these same contours, at the same life point.
Faded eyes shine freedom and gaze back on impossible strength
the inmate of age spoke tales implausible, even to the teller.
A head ponders then shakes, disbelieving its own valedictory
being old can’t be imagined he said … “then one day you just are.”

Reverie became aware of vanished attention
– a net curtain drawn by hormonal breeze.
A question begins to be asked – then is redundant – he has seen.
A trailing gaze. Two young women. Skimpy costumes of water.
“Ah you young chaps,”
a sigh subtracted of envy and regret ….
a pause, while propriety is consulted, then grants permission.

He said he was 26 the year of his wedding – 1935,
that he had never kissed or touched a woman, until wed,
knew nothing about men and women, only the mechanics.
Then
a sombre soundbite, “my generation got married for sex. The only way.”
Awkwardness was evicted by a smoker’s cackle,
“get hitched or go without.”
Perhaps Philip Larkin is right, sex was invented in 1963.

His name was John
but everyone called him Jack
she was Margaret
but answered to Peg –
Jack and Peg
names from before The Beatles
and not after
names,
as long ago as Vietnam
as far back as Dallas
as faded as Apollo.

Jack practised law
Peg kept their house,
one of two.
For 48 weeks they lived in careful affluence
comfortable villa and garden
in a better,
but not best part of town –
the fulcrum of commerce
what judgement sees
evidence of success … avoidance of excess.

And for one month each summer
their cottage by the lake
distant and remote
no electricity,
water from the roof
an outhouse in the bush – for an outhouse.

“Marvellous,” Jack extolled
“back to nature,” before retro nature was fashionable
paraffin lamps
kerosene stove
a bucket for a bath, but Jack said, who needs a shower
when you’ve got the lake.

Heaven on earth Jack said
said that they loved it
adored the solitude
and the simplicity
had to be dragged away when the time came.

When Jack died a friend visited
condolence knew that life would be different
yes said Peg
“I’ll never have to go to that bloody cottage ever again.”