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Of course I’m not there in the dead of night,
but my heart and quite a good part of my body and soul
often stray to the incline by the road, whose sign
pointed past walls, to the river where a wooden bridge
fed disused tram lines, trapping them between tall trees.
There a woman bought for Brandy and Babycham,
allowed a callow youth to show his hand.
Many nights i counted sleepers and railed
against sensible buffers of solid ways,
blocking my path back there.
Brandy and Babycham, glistened on lips
in the lurid light of the lounge bar corner.
Not knowing then i would never walk that way again,
or that such singular memories would forever remain.

29 Nov 12

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