Poem Hunter
I Wonder Why
FP (02/10/65 / Waterloo London UK)

I Wonder Why

She’d rung me out of a distance of years.
Didn’t ask how she found the number,
Curiosity is often a devil that way.

I was masochistically early, ordered gin,
Sat in the back, hiding in the half light,
I was reading Pope when she came in.

‘I didn’t recognise you but the book…’
I rose to kiss her, a hand pressed my chest
And awkwardness closed over the night.

She still drank pints but soda and lime
Instead of Directors and Abbott’s.
‘I don’t drink in the week anymore.’

She was married, two kids and a lover
Who could only see her on Wednesday
When his boyfriend was out of town.

Still attractive at 40, still bare of makeup,
Haunting green eyes mirrored with mischief
A tidy brown bob now flecked with grey.

She played with her earring, head to one side
We spent an hour and didn’t say much
Just history with a pinch of regret.

She took her coat, looked down, a step back to appraise.
As she left through the haze threw a backhanded kiss.
‘You used to be gorgeous! ’

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