She was a head kicker
Hit first ask later kind of girl
Maybe he knew and didn’t care
That was why he loved her
“A mate with flaps” he once said
I begged to differ
She had been part of the gang
I had been on the fringe of
Seeking identity in high school
Tough northern suburbs metal kids
Who’d sooner punch on
And steal cars and club westies
At Paco Station after midnight
With planks pulled from benches
But there was an innocence about him
Maybe from being put up a year
That made me overly protective
He was my little brother
And I didn’t want to see him
Hurt in the ways I had been
So I spoke truly
Perhaps not wisely
Told him not to marry this girl
No matter what his heart said
But he did without dread
White dress on a black soul
Black suit on the purest heart I know
Yet they made it last
Eleven years and a daughter
Before her true colours showed
Then his belief was gone and he cracked
Hearing voices and her egging him on
“Just like your mad cousin!”
Except he was not mad,
Only desperately trying to mend
A broken heart on the run.
© shaun patrick green 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment