The Week Before Exam Results Day
Playing crazy golf, eating candy-floss,
Sniffing glue behind the bleachers,
You bang on the side of the transistor,
Suddenly it comes to life; ‘Tupelo Honey’.
You nod your head as you lick the Rizla;
‘I don’t want this summer to end.’
You lay on the grass;
Indian summer burns your eyelids,
So you run down to the water’s edge,
Dip your big toe into the ocean,
Then run back, escaping the tide,
You splash him,
He splashes back,
You laugh,
He laughs back,
‘Man, I don’t want this summer to end.’
You giggle, high on a new drug,
And act like you invented the sunshine,
But now you’re on the train coming home,
Your clothes covered in wet sand,
You do not say a word,
As words would ruin the mood,
You gaze out of the window,
High rise flats like dollhouses,
Pass you by, never to return.
You smile through heavy eyes,
Look at him and whisper;
‘I wonder if we will ever grow out of doing this.’
He takes a photograph of you
When you pretend to be asleep,
Signs it and places it in your pocket,
You open one eye to see if he believes
That you are sleeping, he doesn’t.
Years later,
you open your shoe-box of memories,
Look back at that photograph,
wonder where he ended up,
college or famous?
it did not matter,
you slowly come to realize,
you were never as fat as you thought you were
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