Poem 286

One more ‘name’ poem … the OE I never had but was perfectly capable of borrowing … and the classic pattern of post-OE expanded minds having to come to terms with less exciting futures following a brief and token struggle …

Paul

When Paul came back from overseas
he had these stories
                                      there was the one
about Amsterdam and the one about going
to Studio 54 in New York there was the one about
selling dollars on the black market in Venice
and having to swim for it
                                               and one
I particularly liked about riding around 
with the drugs dealer in Colorado 
who turned out to be the sheriff

a week 
after he got back Paul said
he was going to the South Island
and went
                  gotta move

by the time he reappeared I'd told just about
everyone his stories
with the accents and all
                                            I introduced him
at parties by saying
and here's the man himself

Paul said this south pacific jewel of ours
was a dump then looked distant
then got married
and did a lot of concreting

I rarely tell
his stories now
but when I'm on a real beach
                                                      a flat blue drop
of ocean to the horizon with no islands
I sometimes catch myself 
thinking
I've got to get back
                                   to Colorado