“Retrospect is the easiest kind of –spect”
You talk of "happy detachment"
your hankering for a smoke
something of Nicaraguan coffee beans
and the price of draw in Manchester
These should be soggy memories
left to drown in the sour milk of recollection-
that fine strain of imaginative preservation
whose contents of soil and seeds
lay deposited on the pavement alas
the precious dirt lodged under the toe nails of drunken feet
But for a Remington Typewriter.
That same docile machine that reluctantly spat out
faulty CV's and unpaid articles,
letters to your mother
which she kept like lucrative collectables
(after all, were they not part of one big stamp collection?)
I relive the same sunny days of
organic moroseness you deemed
necessary to cool the fury
of left wing politics.
And of course the earlier journals.
pregnant with the seductive burn
of a travellers desire and the endearing charm
of a blue eyed writer with
grubby fingers and a charred esophagus
A perpetual imprint.
Like barefooted toddlers dancing joyously
on slabs of wet cement