It was the duck earphones

that permanently endeared me to your soul,

bright yellow, water resistant and plastic

feathered…I saw you semi naked in a mirror, steam

driven as you changed for a party

at a fellow student’s house and I closed my eyes

quickly, snap shut, blocked my ears and

forgot to breathe until you tapped me

on the shoulders and enquired to what

I was hiding from, too old to admire

but young in heart to love you.

 

The duck earphones fitted like a glove,

one made out of goose down synthetic,

but the sound they made was beauty

indeed, as beautiful as your elfin

face as you looked at me from across the table

inside the Cambridge Public House and with

Guinness in our mouths we spluttered and laughed

like lunatics on day release from the library…

I was too old to love you but young enough

to admire your spirit and truth.

 

In searching for the lost Alexandra,

I found a friend in Alex, in the dusky hew

of swearing roulette charm, spinning round

words with a single ball, red or black,

never landing on zero, sometimes careering of the table,

out into the void where some relationships go

but the earphones, authentic sound from a fowl place,

the duck’s arse sincerely hanging out my ears…

when I think of that, I know I loved you.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016