Donny and Marie Stole the Highlights

Donny and Marie Stole the Highlights 

In a New Town hallway,

opposite the cupboard that

hid a menagerie of coats

with secrets in their pockets,

rested our technology.

Avocado in tone and mutant of trill.

It was the business headquarters

of a family facing the final third 

of the twentieth century with 

the optimism of post war spivs.

My dad with his greyhound 

tips and building site blackmail.

My brother, Joe, hustling fake Donny 

Osmond autographs, and me, declaring 

love to Marie Smith of the fourth form.

We’d been to the cinema, seen

‘ABBA: The Movie’. Twice! Our lips 

chapped from all the kissing. But she

rewarded me with her mums’ Luncheon 

Vouchers. I sold them on to Wrighty. 

But the next Saturday afternoon. My 

sister handed me the phone, all sticky 

and wet from fairground honeycomb. 

‘I don’t wanna go out with you anymore.

And my mums’ coming to see yours!’