The bad poet

Still I cant seem to stop myself wittering on drawn as I am into a world of metaphoric mumbo jumbo, checking old drafts, I stumbled across The 2 Fat Lovers, a poem inspired by a couple I used to see same time same days in silent repose outside a workplace in the heart of the city of culture smoking and gawping and reading the echo. Where did they go I wonder, not having seen them in ages I kind of miss them? Maybe they got better jobs after all? Maybe they went to live in Australia? I do hope so. It's meant to nice out there. And now for something completely different, Ms Veasy, remember me this way x. 1976 and all that We were smoking pot On a wooden bench In the grounds of Bromsgrove County Council Offices The year was 1979 And you were a year older than me And we had spent the previous night Fucking the young dream of love You told me you had never COME in your life You had only ever COME close You told me about the power of mans love overcoming the love of man’s power in the name of PEACE…. God was I impressed! You taught me how to roll a joint And sewed patches on my levis You liked Elton John and Pink Floyd [but it didn’t seem to matter] And smoking pot On a wooden bench In the grounds of Bromsgrove District Council Is how I will always remember you. VPx