Battered Beetle

I am due to catch the ferry tomorrow,
I will take my battered beetle and ride the ramp
sit in an impersonal lounge and watch
all the ghosts riding the waves
signalling from the rocks
and my hair will resemble seaweed trails
as I bite back tears,
and regret not having the yearly service on my car.

Yoshi called me Sunday, we speak once a month
or perhaps bi monthly, time flies you know
and sometimes, I admit, I don't always answer.
Yoshi knows though, knows I hate phones
and very rarely send through a text,
he sends them regularly but I don't always read.
He had been trying, he said, to contact me
Patric was walking with his wife
and fell, he hit his head
but they think it was a massive coronary
and anyhow, he didn't make it
and Sophie wants me there, all the old crowd
and so it is, and so I am

On a ferry with a battered beetle
remembering dreams of sunflower rucksacks
and skimpy tops and denim shorts
when I was all legs and arms and
wild hair, wearing earings and rings
baubles and things
when I was the wild child
waving to clouds and chasing my dreams,
now I clutch at the catch on a bag
of rich smooth leather
wearing suede pumps
and shift awkwardly in skinny jeans,
I have a shirt with buttons
and due to an allergy
the earrings are long past
and I am more subdued these days.

I will let you know, should I return
and am not tempted
back into the old ways and old days,
when the tears have dried
and I have that final kiss with Yoshi
promising him more than I can ever keep
and hope that one day, that he won't
and I shall and all those others
that leant on smoky walls in métro's
will echo our voices, our song
in the soliloquy of youth,
we are private now, condensed in our thoughts
I drive a battered beetle
through the old city
and blow a kiss to me of long ago.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 943 times
Written on 2016-04-17 at 19:51

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one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
this is haunting, a visitation with the ghost of yourself. i wonder if we are who we were.
2016-04-23


shells
A journey in more ways than one. The stand out line for me is, "we are private now, condensed in our thoughts." Hope the ferry journey wasn't rough, I've had a few choppy ones!
2016-04-20


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
If you look up "wistful" in the dictionary, this poem will be there. It's quite beautiful and touching, Elle.
2016-04-18


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
I can relate, the spirals wind down and through lattices of bones and old soul songs into ember coals of spirit numb pain as the eyes see all too much was just enoughx
2016-04-17