Kissing Out Scrumping

A few thoughtful amendments…

Video Poems And More


squabs squatting on treetops
stuck between bide and fly

how do you know if wings work?

the youth club was a place for the bigguns
littluns allowed thursdays six  thirty ’till eight

we strode along the spinney path
you in your tan suede jacket
your voice on the croaky cusp of change

I can’t remember what I wore
it would have been tom-boy

an old lady stopped us to chat
we wondered why she was so proud to be eighty three
to us it was a tragedy

our sixpence subs sat in our pockets
subs was a bigguns’ word
got your subs? yeah, got mine. got your subs?

we paid our subs and looked around not moving our heads 

to one end the four-legged green king held court
humouring two or three littluns wielding over-sized cues
to the other a hatch with snacks

Norwegian Wood whined from a record player in the corner
biggun and his bird smooched by
his hand fluttering on and off…

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