Sentry

A wet North Sea fog rolls in to hide the shadowy streets
and a 10 tonne truck. "Grendel" I whisper.
He opens the truck, we lift heavy boxes -

hob-nails on wet stone, shapes shift from gloom
galleons bloom and fold
- this valley between blasted peaks,
a grey place -

I remember and recite thumb-blurred programs,
discern and discriminate as I'd been taught
to sift and sieve those rohrsach tests,
the true and real here, the false and imaginary there,
metals and thesii, loves and friendships
the hard ruler of the alone,
the rock on which we knew we stood
with Truth and Right the only Good,
the assurance of a warm-lit compass needle,
a radar's amber coast -

my eyelashes drip with condensation, grey-scales blur -
is someone whistling? Won't my heart-beat still?
I cannot tell - I blink the dragon-lantern once -

they stop -

a sentry in his dove-grey Tam O'Shanter
and French-grey trench-coat saunters by -

- the dragon-lantern blinks again -
we carry on stacking boxes -

- the clip of high-heels from the alley

- I wave the lamp, they stop -

she pauses by the sentry, the glow of a struck-match lights
their faces. He swoops to her charcoal lips
a glow-worm cigarette drops to the gutter.

*

I relax on a beach before a peaceful scene
- Kodak, Eastman,Technicolor, Fuji -
colour mills strobe overtime -
16 million shades and none of them
building under-carriages for the latest bomber.
I no longer read nor recite nor remember
monochrome thumbprints-
I fly kites, wear Bermuda shorts,
drink pina coladas beneath rainbow umbrellas.
The sunsets are nice round here, I'm told.