Rocksteady Days

Train ride home after work
in northern Italy

A small dog goes running
through the park
as I listen to classic Rocksteady
slow and easy
but full of life

The beat puts me on old London streets
markets
denim jackets
my father in his youth
the football on a Saturday afternoon
in late autumn
West Ham at home
with cigarettes
and bitter on the table

The cold mist mixing
with the breath of hot bacon baps
and
steaming cups of tea
the laughter of men
standing in groups
friendly faces from about town
‘people we knew’
but
never really knew
‘people we knew’
but
never really loved
poverty in the pockets
not on the lips
no, not this
just good talk and
dirty jokes

I laugh at the thought
as my train rolls me into another distant afternoon
in economic crisis 2011
and its endless bags of broken junk

Better keep the headphones in
and the memories alive