After history with Mr Finn
about Saxons or Vikings
or some such thing
you walked home
from school
with Helen
along St George’s Road
the afternoon traffic
hustling and bustling by
and Helen said
that Cogan boy
pulled my plaits
and called me four eyes
and said I looked
like a pug
I think you look pretty
you said
do I?
she said
yes
you replied
and don’t mind
about Cogan
you said
tapping your jacket pocket
(where you kept
your six-shooter cap gun)
he said he’d smash my face
but he never does
he’s all mouth
and short pants
you said
Helen put her arm
under yours
and squeezed it
nice of you to say
I’m pretty
she said
no one’s said that before
and she looked ahead
and you stole a glance
sideward on at her
her plaits held in place
by two rubber bands
her thick lens spectacles
which made her eyes
larger than they were
and her small nose
beneath the bridge
of the wire frame
you looked away
carrying the image of her away
storing it in your mind
and she said
my mum likes you
she said you’re not like
the other boys
around here
o
you said
thinking of her mother
large as life
pushing the big pram
squeezed into
the huge coat
nice of your mum to say
you said
she pulled your arm closer
to her
her dark blue
raincoat
against your black jacket
you sensed the six-shooter
against your ribs
thinking of Cogan
and firing a cap bang
in the back
of his head
my mum said
I can go
to the cinema
with you
on Saturday morning
matinee
Helen said
o good
you said
not caring what
the other boys might say
with her along side you
in the sixpenny seats
you in jeans
and open necked shirt
and she maybe
in that flowered
red dress
white socks
and black battered shoes
sensing her arm
on yours
as you approached
the traffic lights
at the big junction
catching a glimpse
of her smile
as you both crossed
the road
when the lights
turned green
the afternoon sky grey
rain seeming near
smelling it in the air
thinking of Helen
and of a snatched kiss
but you didn’t think so
or didn’t dare.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
After history with Mr Finn
about Saxons or Vikings
or some such thing
you walked home
from school
with Helen
along St George’s Road
the afternoon traffic
hustling and bustling by
and Helen said
that Cogan boy
pulled my plaits
and called me four eyes
and said I looked
like a pug
I think you look pretty
you said
do I?
she said
yes
you replied
and don’t mind
about Cogan
you said
tapping your jacket pocket
(where you kept
your six-shooter cap gun)
he said he’d smash my face
but he never does
he’s all mouth
and short pants
you said
Helen put her arm
under yours
and squeezed it
nice of you to say
I’m pretty
she said
no one’s said that before
and she looked ahead
and you stole a glance
sideward on at her
her plaits held in place
by two rubber bands
her thick lens spectacles
which made her eyes
larger than they were
and her small nose
beneath the bridge
of the wire frame
you looked away
carrying the image of her away
storing it in your mind
and she said
my mum likes you
she said you’re not like
the other boys
around here
o
you said
thinking of her mother
large as life
pushing the big pram
squeezed into
the huge coat
nice of your mum to say
you said
she pulled your arm closer
to her
her dark blue
raincoat
against your black jacket
you sensed the six-shooter
against your ribs
thinking of Cogan
and firing a cap bang
in the back
of his head
my mum said
I can go
to the cinema
with you
on Saturday morning
matinee
Helen said
o good
you said
not caring what
the other boys might say
with her along side you
in the sixpenny seats
you in jeans
and open necked shirt
and she maybe
in that flowered
red dress
white socks
and black battered shoes
sensing her arm
on yours
as you approached
the traffic lights
at the big junction
catching a glimpse
of her smile
as you both crossed
the road
when the lights
turned green
the afternoon sky grey
rain seeming near
smelling it in the air
thinking of Helen
and of a snatched kiss
but you didn’t think so
or didn’t dare.
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