zither
Member
Trudging slowly over wet sand
back to the bench
where your clothes were stolen.
"Too old to be a child star
too young to take leads".
The strange logic in your clumsiest line
it stayed emblazoned on my mind.
Leather elbows on a tweed coat,
an afternoon nostalgia
television show.
You spoke in silhouette.
Your gran died and your mother died
on Maudlin Street
in pain and ashamed.
With never time to say
those special things.
And so we crept through the park
no, I cannot steal a pair of jeans off a clothesline for you.
A silver-studded rim that glistens,
an ankle-star that blinds me
and a lemon sole so very high.
Further into the fog I fall
back to the bench
where your clothes were stolen.
"Too old to be a child star
too young to take leads".
The strange logic in your clumsiest line
it stayed emblazoned on my mind.
Leather elbows on a tweed coat,
an afternoon nostalgia
television show.
You spoke in silhouette.
Your gran died and your mother died
on Maudlin Street
in pain and ashamed.
With never time to say
those special things.
And so we crept through the park
no, I cannot steal a pair of jeans off a clothesline for you.
A silver-studded rim that glistens,
an ankle-star that blinds me
and a lemon sole so very high.
Further into the fog I fall
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