Simon

Simon Sometimes

 

Sometimes, Simon, an epiphany strikes

in flashes that feel not wrong not right,

replaced a leaking roof at great cost

with one that leaked - and all was lost.

Some years ago when we all took flight,

you remember that? It's sink or swim,

that’s what profits were muttering

at the time - you'll jump or be pushed,

financial matters - they weren't flush,

quick sand and corkscrews of decline;

you scratch my back, I’ll scratch mine

too – now fuck off with the lot of you.

Of course, they offered up kickbacks,

recompense for shipping all that flack,

bunged a bit of cash to tide us over

as we struck out for new shores solo,

forever after out and out betrayed,

so much hate for those who stayed,

called out rats who skippered the boat

gave elbows the slip, stayed afloat,

or so it seemed. Ten years since then

have slipped; I’ve picked up my pen

five hundred times or maybe more,

to set out thoughts, to settle scores

and yet today, in revelations fair,

I cannot find it in my heart to care.

Kept no friends from yesteryears

and won’t hear from anyone anymore:

I find that good. Of Angel, what of her?

Each day I look into my lover’s eyes,

sweet bird of paradox, surprise, surprise;

John said, we crave no other company,

finding more strength in mutuality

that wasn’t there before. Learnt much:

new thoughts, new skills, deft touch

on fretboard and plucked steel strings,

I had forgot that I knew how to sing,

and sweetness such melody brings.

My friend, all that dissonance now chimes;

it’s good to see you, Simon, sometimes.