A Near Death Experience

A very old poem posted with Griffoner in mind

‘Kiss me,’ she said on our

first date, sitting on busted

leather seats outside her

mum and dad’s house inside

the 1948 Hillman Minx with

 a month’s MOT left on it.


I kissed her and she wanted

me to go to Dartford Heath.

‘What’s the rush?’ I said,

unable to believe my luck.

‘Haven’t you heard?’ she

obsessed, ‘Russia’s sending

missiles to Cuba. I don’t


want to die a virgin.’ her eyes

pleaded, aided by clumsy fingers

tugging on my fly. ‘I don’t have

“things.’” I warned in half-heart.

‘I don’t care, we’re going to die.’

And so, in October ‘62, North Kent’s

hippie movement was conceived.

© Guaj 2023
Views: 585
critique and comments welcome.
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments

what are these ‘things’ all about? curious!


I thought it was drugs. is it your way of saying it like that or was it indeed a polite term used back then


funny but sad. omg.


Stunning poem.

I passed through Dartford and Gravesend on my travels looking for the bike shed where Dickens played with Pocohontas, but all I found was a tin of sardines.


I went to Swanscombe once and thought I had fallen into a parallel universe where people all drove souped up ford escorts and capris. I drank myself out of that very quickly!


Sorry I wasn’t around to welcome this to UKA, Guaj. 🙂
I haven’t been to Dartford Heath. North Kent, yes. I lived in Cliftonville for a while, and travelled every day by bus to Canterbury Technical College. There was this girl, Sandra, who was my first adolescent love. We used to sit together on the journey and we’d hold hands…….. *SIGHS*
I loved your poem, by the way… which is what I should have said to start with but you got me carried away. 😉


Ha ha Loved it! Gave me a right laugh but was also very descriptive.
Alison x

Flag Content