HATED IT WHEN SHE DID THAT

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First memory of being alive

Small boy

Squatting on haunches

Tiny front garden

A ‘two up; two down’

Tatty Victorian terraced cottage

On the main drag into London

Clad in grey coat

Oxford blue velvet collar

Picking heads off daisies

Then-blond hair parted

On the right

Hated it

When she did that.

 

Gazing intently

Entire concentration

Centred on the task at hand

It is here and then

That I determine

To be my moment.

 

Became ‘alive’

That day

The point of first memory

The point at which

Thought and deed

Is consigned

To the vast library

The human mind.

 

No previous memories

Simply did not abide

Prior to this point in time

No conscious state until then

No glimpse of life in the womb

Just a retrospective

Presumed nucleus

The child at the very centre

Of its own universe

As is the way of things.

 

It does not last though

That nucleus thing.

 

An uninspired child

The product of a union

An uninspired one at that. 

 

Unfair?

Maybe

Accurate?

Believe so.

 

Conception

Another matter

Pre-planned or accident?

Product of love or lust?

Cocktail of both?

Or habit?

Most probably

Just Friday night

Habit

After the pub shut

When the card game

Finished

Fish and chips

Consumed

Like I said

Habit.

 

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14 thoughts on “HATED IT WHEN SHE DID THAT

  1. this feels like a well choreographed prizefight – no nonsense – all business – filled with well executed short jabs in verse – “I determine To be my moment” is masterful

    1. Thank you – I had a mother who loved me yet her relationship over 60 odd years with dad was emotionless in many respects. As an only child I had time to notice these things.

  2. Great work once again. Interesting subject matter…are these really your first memories of life here on Earth?
    It’s an interesting thought: Our first memories are always from a time after our conception and birth. We’ve always spent a year or so on Earth before our memory presses the ‘record’ button;)
    Welcome to Earth btw.

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