Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Bill Wyman outcast in the Rolling Stones
by music and talent
perhaps not
bedded 2000 women – more probably he thought.

Can one person remember? 2000 opening lines
2000 hotel rooms
2000 post coital cigarettes.

Did he triage memory?
Good.
Bad.
Mediocre.

Comparative is best when only two
direct
easy
and inevitable.

There were only two –
two Antarctic winters,
one in the 1980’s and one in the 90’s.

Second time and I couldn’t help myself
measuring
matching
ranking.
Someone asked one day
I replied, “we worked harder than anyone here.”
His eyes rolled : why did I bother asking.

It was the end of the end of term
end of the year
if the gods were favourable, the end of university
and perhaps, the end of zero gravity.

The last class
of the last day.
He is good this professor
lively, interesting
free of pomposity
must have been doing this to 25 years – at least
but still presents with boyish enthusiam.

At the beginning of class
not the obligatory obituary for the year
but announcement
“ we should get finished in 15 to 20 minutes
if all goes well.”
Code: if all shut up, we’ll be out of here in double quick time.
Got it – loud and clear
exactly 15 minutes …..“ I think that’s all I’ve got.”

Books close
papers fold
bodies twist upwards.
“ Oh, oh … before you go … one more thing
I’m an old man
sometimes I get a little cantankerous
so humour me
please, answer the question I have asked,
not the one you preferred I’d asked.”

 

 

She said she knew immediately why he was there
confirmation
she didn’t need to – but did
a glance
down
and to the right
the pitch of his trousers. Yes.

At home she would have told him
not interested,
go away,
get lost.
But here
living and working on site
required caution, dexterity.

She invited him in
asked about him and his
feigning interest in his family
and told of hers
and the man at home
whom she missed
looked forward to being reunited with
when the season was over.
Half an hour of fabrication she said
better than several months of slow burn.