Member Poem

 
Some people live with the fear of a touch and the anger of having been a fool
                                                                 Innocent Man, Billy Joel (1983)
 
I stand in the pub’s back room to listen
to the band; review, appraise, assess. Then
you whisper into the quiet space between songs
and into my singularity of purpose.
 
I note scant promise in the band but hear
a great deal from you: you wouldn’t rush things,
you’d understand, you’ve been hurt too …
soon your honesty licks my wounds.
 
We trade stories in fragments of pain and
transient empathies until the bar empties, then
walk all the street-pound hours it takes to discuss
the nature of love, of regret, of rejection.
 
I stay far away from my door while we talk.
There is no chance of it opening up tonight;
as much as I’ve enjoyed your company,
two so wronged can never make it right.