Monday, August 28, 2006

everyone just stood there

By Adam Gibson

(for Tracy Ellis)

an appreciator of fine furnishings, light shades,
a girl with a keen eye for artwork so bad that it's good,
a woman who's irony doesn't outweigh innocence,
who enjoys fine wine and fine footwear.

i still have a tape somewhere of the song she sung,
recorded in the now netherworld of the early nineties,
long Newtown nights, Hawaiian shirts, converse shoes,
brown suede jackets and six-cylinder cars
which leaked in rain and always smelt of damp
and of leaded petrol when you drove to bars
or someone's play.

a straight-haired friend with lovely face
who coached me into bands i didn't know
and told me about books which came to lay upon my shelf
and in my head ever since;
Carver's small carvings or For Esme with Love and Squalor.

i remember winter nights walking roads and footpaths
and crossing gutters and median strips
and pedestrian crossings to visit her in the bookshop to say hello
and occasional walks and lots of music.

and the passing years saw us passing in pubs
with beers in our hands and my excited gleam to see
someone who says when they think i'm wrong and
equally when they think right.

at her wedding i clutched a glass of red as
an unrelated breakdown blackened my head
but the gloom on me broke long enough to see her standing there,
emerging in white,
(cliché warning) but no bride more pretty, ever,
as her groom looked on, stunned and thrilled,

as were we
and they married beneath the threat of a Sydney summer storm
and off they went in a silver car and
everyone just stood there
feeling better than they had in a long time.


Adam Gibson said...

blah blah

Adam Gibson said...

that was a test message above, please ignore