2005
Part 1 where I wake up
with the bird contingent, the top of the tree,
the squeaking bed, my own sniff and snort, trying to get
the accretion of congealed blood and mucus from my nose,
breakfast, then in jacket, maroon tie, long sleeve shirt;
this was foolish, the day becoming quite warm;
try listening to the weather report.
the bus stop, two hundred metres up in the Deri air,
on the corner, an old neighbour, her elderly companion talk,
we exchange greetings, I walk, the bus got there first, I swear.
I’m in the kiosk. ‘If you want to enquire about a bill, press one’,
the next few minutes, I press one, two etc, then spoke to a real person,
nice girl, helpful, but two, yeah two, weeks to connect…
I talk to a youngish well-built thing waiting by
the kiosk, patient, alone. I apologise for taking so long, but
with answer machine, what do you expect?
‘It’s okay’. I explained I was trying to reconnect.
‘It’s okay’. I was trying to make it clear
that it is a problem when phoning, to traipse up here.
‘It’s okay’; she seemed, on reflection,
to have no interest in my attempt at reconnection.
Maybe I should stick to the weather.
Nice day. Yeah. Horrible day. Yeah. Windy today. Yeah.
I thought next time I might try:
nice day; expensive, though.
horrible day, but it’s cheap.
windy today, pity about the cheese,
then I can see if I get the same reply.
Part 2 where I take off my jacket
in the park, going down the none-to-soft gradient to try
to pay the near expiry date electricity chit, go to bank;
a pretty young no-name tag woman served me.
‘Do you want me to stamp the top to show you’ve paid?’ ‘Okay.’
‘Where’s the top?’ ‘The top of what?’ ‘The bill…’
I didn’t have it. I think she thought me a bit thick.
But first, I tried my renewed ATM card, punching in. ‘Please wait.’
It gave me money. I thanked it; technology, one should appreciate.
Part 3 where I go
to the main Post Office, Mike, friendly, helpful chap;
airmail sticker, stamp, os gwelwch yn dda, counter three,
a letter to Malaysia; to Edwards the Butchers, around the corner.
Rob, dreaming - he said it, not me - three sausages, some meat;
how much? About two pounds; big pile on the scales, weight going
up, up, up, up, up…he though lb. I meant £;
in the window, a poster for ‘Welsh treats for spring’. I went out, going back by
the town hall cum theatre cum market clock, a quarter to one;
a group of maybe retirement people, parking on the wall here
with drink, fish, chip, one chap enjoying a can of Strongbow.
I went along, going past Sue’s Pantry; it registering with me
the first time I read it, not a café, but a place that sold lingerie.
Walking back by cattle market, rugby park,
pretty women, big tree, into Llwynu Road, a short cut,
a Proton, I’d seen once or twice before;
momentary reminiscing - not wanting it, though - coming to me here
by the Ysgyryd Fach; I take note of the train kicking into gear.
Part 4 where I go to the shop
the two hundred metre trek circa 9 pm here,
to get a chilled pack or two;
across the road, an attractive woman walking alone;
here, an equally pretty one,
in dentist top, skirt, long hair, buying a pack of lager.
I, waiting my turn, behind her, watching;
although late, she looked fresh and clean.
I wanted to unzip her, for inspection,
but no doubt she would have whacked a can against my nose.
Married? I don’t think so. Boyfriend… he’d have beer
in the house, right? Why four cans?
The first woman had disappeared, just like the evening.
The shop lager woman walked on in the night air,
a bare fifty metres in front of me, going away to where…
