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terry-collettPoems
Nima lays on the green grass in St James's Park her head resting on her hands, her eyes following puffy white clouds. I lay beside her relaxing after the jaunt across the West End before meeting her by Trafalgar Square. The Coltrane LP by my side. What's beyond the horizon? She asks. Black space, dead stars and maybe planets. But beyond them, what's there? God knows and He isn't letting on, I say. I'm lucky to be here today; the doctor said he wasn’t happy with me. Why's that? what have you been up to? She looks at me; her eyes dull, her hair untidy. The drug issue is not going so well. I see her arms are punctured anew. I said I was seeing my mother and she'd bring me back, but she won't of course, Nima says, looking away. I can see you back to the hospital. No, I'll tell him she dropped me off and had to go off some place else. But that’s not true is it; how do you expect to get better if you don't go along with the doctor's regime? Truth or untruth, either side of the same coin; I’ll kick the habit when I'm good and ready. I doubt it; you will never want to, until too late. Too late, too soon; what's time in this sad cocoon? I want a fix and I want a **** She sits up and shakes her head, brushing grass hanging loose. Coffee will have to do, I say, and we get up and walk slowly away.
0
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
IN ST. JAME'S PARK 1967.
Nima lays on the green grass in St James's Park her head resting on her hands, her eyes following puffy white clouds. I lay beside her relaxing after the jaunt across the West End before meeting her by Trafalgar Square. The Coltrane LP by my side. What's beyond the horizon? She asks. Black space, dead stars and maybe planets. But beyond them, what's there? God knows and He isn't letting on, I say. I'm lucky to be here today; the doctor said he wasn’t happy with me. Why's that? what have you been up to? She looks at me; her eyes dull, her hair untidy. The drug issue is not going so well. I see her arms are punctured anew. I said I was seeing my mother and she'd bring me back, but she won't of course, Nima says, looking away. I can see you back to the hospital. No, I'll tell him she dropped me off and had to go off some place else. But that’s not true is it; how do you expect to get better if you don't go along with the doctor's regime? Truth or untruth, either side of the same coin; I’ll kick the habit when I'm good and ready. I doubt it; you will never want to, until too late. Too late, too soon; what's time in this sad cocoon? I want a fix and I want a **** She sits up and shakes her head, brushing grass hanging loose. Coffee will have to do, I say, and we get up and walk slowly away.
A BOY AND GIRL IN LONDON IN ST. JAME'S PARK IN 1967.
terry-collett
Written by
terry-collett
English
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
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