Nostalgia

Nostalgia
 
You can’t fool me
I know you’re here,
The hint of patchouli
you wore at our last kiss,
and at our first kiss,
gives the game away.
 
Are you playing hide ‘n’ seek?
 
Remember the neighbours
thumping the walls
at our midnight parties playing
Archie Shepp and Albert Ayler,
while we snorted coke
and smoked five-skinners?
 
Remember nights of kiss and make up
dumping lies and adulteries –
in the oubliette of
‘c’est la vie – forget about it?’
 
Cocaine, grass, jazz,
domestic warfare,
conciliation sex and
‘kissing it better.’
 
That’s the way we rolled.
 
Remember the whispered call
from Rhodes you made
regretting your ‘elopement escapade?’
 
We’ve all done dumb things when drunk on love.
 
Wiping your girlfriend’s spittle
from my cheek at
Leeds/Bradford arrivals.
 
Did you ever see her again? 
 
Remember our first trip together
in a Glastonbury bender?
 
The freeze-frame birth of a pyramid
before our saucer eyes?
 
Angels dancing around your head
trailing rainbow ribbons?
 
According to you
my face turned gargoyle –
a toxic stream gushed from a spout
where my mouth should have been.
 
You know you only made that up to score a squabble point.
 
Remember our Holy Land holiday?
 
That stampeding camel at Bethany
freaked by Italians screeching, ‘Descendere!’
 
I hung on for grim death
as it rampaged the
Garden of Gethsemane –
you wet yourself laughing    
and wished you had a camera.
 
And your white dress,
suddenly see-through,
as you rose from the Jordan after a
“discount special-rate for Sterling”
tourist baptism in ‘sacred water.’
 
The ‘preacher’ had seen it all before – his side-kick had the camera.
 
You, hippo-pregnant, naked,
washing away Dead Sea mire
in a spring at Ein Feshkha.
 
You swore flying would not harm
our unborn…
                    … stillborn son.
 
You would have been a bonzer grandma.
 
Patchouli fades.
 
Is god where you are?
 
a dent on the wall
when I ducked
a cup you chucked
remains
 
the white stain
where you tipped
a boiling kettle over
the coffee table
remains
 
and memories of an empty funeral.
 

© coolhermit 2019
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critique and comments welcome.

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