NaPM April 10 2015

[Keith]

Heavy Ipods

Only the radio had the power
to keep my attention
and that was only for an hour
on a Sunday night just after a bath,
and shaved bubble beards.
The rest of the time
I was a distraction
to the rest of the class,
well at least that's what it says
in those musty pink report books
in the loft.

The top twenty meant as much
as match of the day or Iron-side,
and when it was over at 7:00pm
I was always a little depressed
and called it Sunday night tummy.

Dad rarely spoke between smokes
so when he shouted upstairs
for me to come down, I did
in leaps and bounds four steps
at a time, here he said and don't
say I never give you nowt.

A brown cardboard box with blue faded art work,
it smelled of stock cupboards and warm dust.
I threw my hand around his neck going in
for an unmanly kiss, I got a stubble scrap instead,
but at least it was a sign of affection.

That Sunday my world was transformed.
It was time to leave the capsule if I dared
and in one black leather driving glove
I mimed the night away too My Coo ca choo.
Move over Alvin Stardust,
with my tape recorder by my side, I have arrived.