Saturday morning rain

A near accident at the traffic circle

of Loughton high street

but nobody hooted at anybody

and man in a chicken suit

stands outside a real estate office

next to a blonde

promoting something

the cars whish past

spraying water up from the road

and the drizzle kept coming down

didn’t look like stopping anytime soon

like it was plugged in 

the woman in a long checked shirt 

walked past under an umbrella

and I smelled the cigarette smell coming off her

the 397 hummed past

but in the wrong direction

old man in a mask

shuffling past almost aimlessly 

cars kept on by

wsshhhh

wsshhhh

the world hits different on Saturday morning

seven more minutes for my ride

but it gave me a chance to savor

the best 

damn

cappuccino 

I’d had in years

Port Alfred is a quiet place

Out of nowhere

The other night

A random memory hit me

Of when I was five or six

We only have a few memories of those times

When we were small

Don’t we?

A few isolated oases

In the deserts of the past

In this one I was in Port Alfred

A small boy

At my aunt’s house on holiday

A small seaside town

And there I was

Sitting on the steps of the veranda

At about 9pm at night

The adults all inside, I was all alone

Looking out across at the lights of the houses and street poles

It was December and it was hot

But quiet

So quiet, and I liked that

There was something about it all

I suddenly had a thought

I needed to write something about this

I ran in to grab a pad and pen

The empty page suddenly seemed heavy in my hand

But I looked out again at the night and the feeling remained

In the distance I could make out the lights of the petrol station

At the point where the main road reached the town

I could faintly hear the distant groan of a truck

Few things more lonely

Than the sound of a truck on the highway at night

I had to write something

I felt compelled

Eventually I wrote the line

“Port Alfred is a quiet place”

I sat there for a long time after that

Trying to think of how to continue

But nothing came

I had this feeling swelling inside me in that instant

About this quiet moment in this quiet town at night

But I didn’t have the words or skill to put it down on paper

That was the only line I wrote

The paper was discarded and forgotten

Life went on

I wonder now how I might have completed that poem

Nowadays in my older age I can write lines like second nature

Usually

But sometimes I still sit outside after dark

And take in the sounds of night

Lights in the distance

Perhaps the gentle sound of swaying branches

A few more sounds now, here, than in Port Alfred 30 years ago

But still

Life has a way of letting life get in the way of everything important

But that deep rooted part of ourselves persists

At least it should

We just have to find it

Sometimes it’s at 3:25am thinking back

About how Port Alfred is a quiet place

Aldersgate in the rain

She smiled at me in the rain

On the steps of Aldersgate Church

Our eyes meeting under the black wide brows of open umbrellas

As the grey rain drizzled over us

Over all of us

A smile

So alien in this London gloom

Like something from another world, one I’d prefer

I walked on

Hearing the sound of a travel bag being rolled on pavement near me

The sound of adventure

Pretty sure the rain had wet the bag on my back

And my shoes were wet

I thought of waves and villages

And smiles

An ambulance wailed past

A construction drill echoed through the streets

Growing tomatoes

Stuck in this corporate world

The longer I’m in it the more I want to leave it

And the more it becomes . . . impossible to

Gazing out the window on a listless Friday

The alien-like voices on conference calls drift

Through cold glass windows and they drone

And drone and drone

Like machines that have been left on

And my thoughts wander again

To that small town in my mind

Small house in a small town

Waking to the sound of a rooster

Watching the sun go down on my veranda each day

With white wine or maybe a whiskey if I’m in the mood

Spending days the way I please

Answering no one

Questioning nothing

Growing my own tomatoes

The modern world just a highway in the distance

The sound reminding you that it’s there, if you need it

But only if you need it

Only if you need it

Some daydreams keep you sane