Almost
A Stranger
Bumping into you amid the Dublin crowds,
under the columns of College Green bank;
both of us almost strangers but
bringing us back:
a bearded jazz sax player blowin' away.
It's too much, both of us biting back tears;
lost for words after so long.
Our family photos were edited in anger,
behind the “say cheese” smiles pain-etched hearts.
Long, long ago you shaved
the old fashioned way with soap-stick,
brush & blade, while loud jazz
music blared in the background:
Jelly Roll Morton, Duke Ellington & Louis Armstrong
all blowin' thompin' & stompin' away,
tone flat with treble hiss & scratch.
We both love this gutsy, sweaty swing.
So long ago, watching the crazed whirl,
78s spinning wildly, needle rocking up & down
heading towards the gummed label
in the centre at an alarming rate.
My middle brother & I playing philistine:
a pin stuck through the apex of a paper cone,
spinning the turntable manually,
giggling at the warbled distortion
until parental intrusion pulled the plug.
Now, you embark on a train
with your slight hobble & battered suitcase,
waving a hanky up & down,
loveable fool!
wiping imaginary tears from a clown-sad face...
(heart probably shattered like shellack)
the train left, the boyish laughter stopped...
