thoughts of Joanna

By Coolhermit

Tue, 08 Sep 2020
  • 194 reads
 

thoughts of Joanna



Joanna was her proper name,
she did not like diminutives
so I called her Jo
to wind her up
 
we were never lovers
in the sense of it
we were in too deep for that
 
meeting in the park
as she walked her dog,
named West after Mae
(or Rose maybe)
 
supping tea at the duck pond cafe
shredding reputations, gossiping-
 
if one we despised happened by,
notebook in hand, staring at trees,
we’d smile, wave and ask,
 
‘how’s it going? write much lately?’
 
they’d acknowledge acquaintance
with curt nod and a lying smile
 
‘nice to see you, can’t stop...villanelle,’
‘great stuff... top notch... later alligator’
 
we’d sit and chuckle,
‘villanelle? sounds like a pile of drivel’
(Jo went, ‘don't you mean, excremental?’)
 
or we'd stare at trees
or ducks for an hour
not speaking,
not touching
just being together
 
they were good days
then West died
and Jo soon after
 
I miss them,
I long to sit with them
any bench, any park,
anywhere will do
 
we’ll share laughter and glances
and in those glances -
and long silences -
feast on a kind of loving
unspoiled by words.

 

 

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