copyright Fabian Black 2009
Twenty-five years since last we met.
So much has changed. I’m lost now.
Age confuses me...I thought youth
was mine until such time I found use for it.
What of you? What have you made of life?
Do images of brain-spattered windows
still haunt your dreams and Superior voices
commanding ‘ Get over it?’
Remember fear of Chinese rice and dental visits
shy hands held beneath a paper tree
ET...go home...are you home, my Valerie?
A kiss so innocent upon the cheek,
“I’ll never wash again.”
Sweet words to a lonely girl.
I still have your Christmas card with biro kisses
and the number that remained un-dialled.