Fish Sestina

The waiter recommended the fish,
you nodded, and ordered a half bottle of white.
Our meals came, cheese melted
over breadcrumbs. You picked a hair
wedged between two sautéed potatoes, and told the waiter
you had eaten better at a service station.

When we said goodbye at the train station
I felt like a fish
out of water. People like that waiter
never saw the real you. People are not so black and white.
You gave me a locket, and a strand of your hair,
and as I watched the train leave, every one of my heart beats melted.

The first time I saw you I melted,
ten years ago at the cafe in this station.
It's hard to think so far back, I had long hair
and was a vegetarian, ate no meat, except for fish.
I was so skinny then, my face ghostly white.
You ordered a sandwich from me, your waiter.

I was the world's worst waiter
I once spilt boiling water everywhere, I melted
so many plastic tablecloths you couldn't tell they used to be white.
You just watch people disappear, working in a railway station.
I wasn't there for long, I was sacked when I dropped a plate of fish,
a trout's eyeballs were lost in an old lady's hair.

She did not notice me rummage in her hair
the only one who saw was the Head Waiter.
It was the hottest weekend of the year, according to Michael Fish,
I had been sacked, but as the sun melted
on the horizon, I stopped caring. I tuned into my favourite radio station
and drank so much wine my eyeballs turned white.

I remember at school Mr White
told me I would end up as nothing. That I should cut my hair
and that I'd become well known at the Police Station.
Once, he came into a restaraunt and I was his waiter.
His ice-cream melted
under my piss. He complained the vanilla tasted of rotting fish.

You will be back in the Isle of Wight now. I'm still a waiter
without long hair, just with memories how how my heart melted
when i was with you. I leave the station, find a river, and try to catch another fish.