Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

He wasn’t the first,
Alistair had that distinction
or destiny.
Al – at high school, we thought him full of bullshit
too much exaggeration
too much hyperbole
too much self-aggrandisement
until dead at 17 : from too much heroin,
then
we reclassified fiction, non-fiction.

Once he was gone,
perhaps
we realised he’d never been innocent
or innocent
making
this time, feel like the first time.
Just 20, all of us – just left our teens
20 – seemed so much older than 19
even the really old school at uni
treated us less like kids now.

In the afternoon sunshine
we stood straight and tall
until
lowering our heads
in sync with the lowering coffin.
A sigh
moist eyes
no one wiped them
or risked trembling vocal cords.
We walked away in silence.

It’s like any other office
smiling receptionist
chairs
magazines
and, “ won’t to be too long.”

Most come here
not to do
but to undo
undo, “ I do.”
Some with rancour
others resignation
others relief.

She is good at this
warm and compassionate
good with advice and price
deft separating
quick processing.

She has a poster – a couple looking tense
If rancour has been calmed
she turns it around.
“Okay, okay,” says half of the couple
“I take it back … unfuck you.”

We never went to a movie
or to a bar
never went fishing
or to football.
We did go to the beach,
one morning
after mechanical failure released us from work.
He dared a woman to swim topless
and she did ….. the opposite sex inclined to his bidding.

A conman
a gypsy
a sleaze ball
a mystic
all of the above …. and then some.

“Steve ” –
history doubts he was.
Just the two of us
and the owner
for the three months, as trees turned from green to red.
After two weeks he asked why I was unhappy?
except he used “ fucked off ” as  synonym
– I thought it well disguised.

Thus began friendship
we talked – really talked – hopes and dreams
rearranged work hours to sun up start
finishing
then
talking and coffee through afternoon sunshine
and
sometimes a joint, joint.
Time was timeless, until the trees, finished time for us
no more apples  : no more work.

Some return year after year
neither of us would –
that was known.
At the gate, laughter
and anecdote …..
“ remember that day when .… well, I suppose ”
Two young men
and affection
emotion too
self-conscious, we allowed neither entry
a handshake
“see ya,” I said
“have a good life,” he replied.
I never saw him again. I knew I wouldn’t.