the smell of chlorine
your locker key
on a safety pin
and another torn
verruca sock
~
swimming pool hair
still wet
in car park dark
clutch a small treat
from
the
new
vending
machine
that backlit shining sugar cave
~
gold cortina 1.6 gl
vinyl roof
drives
us
home
inside winters
longest nights
~
butter melting
into crumpet holes
and
peter davidsons wearing cricket whites
on tv
in dr who
inexplicably
unarmed
again
banehuntress.co.uk
at the end of the day
we put our chairs
upside down on the tables
for the cleaners easy access
it made the room
instantly alien
like it was
full of steel porcupines
and there was a brief buzz
of clique free
childish camaraderie
that
it
was
over
at last
again
goodnight to teacher
we said
goodnight to cleaner
and then a slow walk home
down the soft back alleys
where someone had laid
carpet cut-offs
over
the
dirtway
slipthrus
lurid indoor patterns now trodden in
and
disappearing
or maybe to the pool
loose my self in motion
and chlorine
big blue locker key
pinned to my trunks
with
their
three
sewn on stripes
of competence
i seem to remember it all
so clearly
everything except
the kind of bag i had
( what kind of bag did i have ? )
i was by myself
i wasnt good in company
it seemed to subtract me
somehow
so i walked home alone
or to the pool
looking at the roofs
and the tv spikes there
wondering
all
the
wonders
i wondered
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