On the way back
from the cinema
with your old man

one Friday night
he stopped
at the fish and chip shop

and ordered chips
in salt and vinegar
in a large bag

and walked home
down Meadow Row
he talking of the films

you'd seen
how he once met
the actress

in some film festival
up West
you were thinking

of the cowboy
in the film
and how well

he drew his gun
especially using
his right hand

to get the gun
from his left hand holster
a kind of cross over style

and you thought
I must try that
when I get home

get it down
to perfection
and he said he'd seen

the actor( not
the cowboy guy
some other)

in the theatre once
in some play
you thought

how you'd show Ingrid
once you had
the technique of

cross over drawing
of the gun
to a fine art

she'd sit on the grass
by Banks House
and watch

with her mouth open
as you did
your show piece

and you'd show her
how fast you could draw
your 6 shooter or

maybe you'd wear
both guns
one on each side

the old man was still
yakking on
about this actress

but you were imagining
Ingrid sitting there
on the grass

or on the bicycle sheds
listening to you talk
of the film

and how good
the cowboy was
and you saw her

in your mind's eye
( as you and your old man
crossed over Rockingham Street

and up the *****
to the Square)
sitting there

with her eyes wide open
her hands
like sleeping doves

lying in her lap
and on the leg
(as usual)

a crimson mark
from her father's
hard slap.