Beamish

[Smiffy]

Aisle Nine

I fell in love in aisle nine
Stood before a Golden Glory
But the Bishops Finger left me sore
Now that’s a different story

---

Four

If you have never been there you won’t
know the feeling of a blue black sky,
the a warm glow of freedom in your
heart, you are in the mood for Fish Chips,
Mushy Peas from a chippy where
the fat has long cooled in the fryer
Car headlights stare you out as you stand
by the roadside looking up counting
one ,two ,three, four, whispering words to
the night, no pen or paper, your finest
work floats into thin air, swaying, reaching
for an invisible deck rail, smiling
as you openly curse the buyer
of the last two pints making a mental
note you know you will forget,
Canterbury Jack, hoppy with a
citrus aftertaste, Squirrel’s Nest, a
light blonde ale holding a creamy white
head, again citrus after tones a car
horn breaks the silence, an egg lands at
your feet , Bloody kids!!!, moving on
wearing zig zag boots swaying like a
field of corn in the breeze leaning into
a non- existent wind, staggering
like John Wayne with three bullets in the
back you reach the garden gate, count the
reflection in the puddle, One ,two,
three, four, if you have never been there
you won’t know the feeling of certainty
that tomorrow is not going to be
a good day, fumbling in too many
pockets for keys, the keyhole moving
left to right you stumble in and begin
to negotiate the stairs, even three
sheets to the wind you know the danger
Your foot hovers over the second
step, planted like an Ali right you rise
to fall backwards into hanging coats,
After fifty up and down steps on
a thirteen step flight of stairs you crash
a soft landing into tomorrow’s hangover
Closing your eyes the last thing you see
Is four moons