The Times of Our Lives

There were three of us that day...
two boys, and me. We knew
we shouldn’t have climbed over
the orchard wall, but what the heck?

We were only scrumping, and no one
but no one goes to prison for that...
so Les said. Trouble was the apples
was all maggoty, so we gave them
a miss...climbed a tree, instead.

Three of us on one branch; it was
a bit of a squeeze, but the boys
didn’t mind. I did, but they told me
to stop whinging

and that I smelled like Lifebuoy soap,
and Plasticine, rolled into one...so Jo said.
And then he pulled out a tube of Rolos
from his pocket...

said he’d had an idea. We could
all build a tree-house, but Les
called him a retard, and something
not nice...said we didn’t have time.

And then we got to quarrelling
as to how old the tree was, and I said
my dad had told me it was all to do
with counting rings in the bark,
and Les said why didn’t we just
ask it.

Then we all got the giggles, until
I fell off, and grazed my leg. Best
spit on it, so Les said, or else
it might turn skeptic or worst of all
I might get skeptic screamier, whatever
that was.

And then, ye gods...I saw my mum,
walking down the road on her way
home from work! We hid behind
the wall, and she never saw us.

Jo gave me one of his Rolos...‘cept
it wasn’t his last one, or so he said.
In a day, or so, my knee scabbed over.
Les asked, pleaded with me, no less, but
it was Joe I let pick it off.