Sidewalk Quickstep

More confessions...

I forget myself.

In the quiet solitude

of the walk

back down the hill

past the park,

I forget myself.

In the relief

of the day’s full tension,

I forget myself,

and

calmly

express myself -

wind

blowing free

from my arse.

But this raucous reedy report,

which sends clichés of pigeons clattering

into the sky,

wakes me

from my

walking stupor.

The curtains of the moment open

and here I am

aware

of all the rest of you.

Now, I remember.

Here I am,

confounded

by embarrassment,

with you,

the attractive you,

right up there

slipstreaming

behind me.

And in my desperation

to reclaim my dignity

I scud the pavement

with the side of my boot

to recreate the offending noise.

Again and again

I skip and scuff at the tarmac.

I can

in no way

approach

the original fanfare

but you,

the beautiful you,

walking behind in my cloud,

yesterday’s sage and onion,

dive off down a forking path

and leave me

to continue

the kicking

sad pretence,

red-cheeked and solitary,

while the approaching

pedestrian

looks in quivering

bemusement

at my

sidewalk quickstep.