Sometimes I weep
For a love I once had
Or a kindness from my dear one
For the love of my children
The look in his eye
His closed sweet smile
Her beautiful voice
The sound of jazz piano, by Bill Evans,
or played by my mother.
Born from the belly of a pianist, it was the first sound I ever heard.
No wonder I love it so.
Then the sound of the accordion played rousingly
Like my father in his folk days.
He used to listen to recordings of steam trains.
We laughed, but he didn’t mind. Daddy, my daddy.
Looking back on happy memories
Of a London Summer in Camberwell
Followed by two more. Complete joy
We listened to soul music, Prince, Stevie Wonder
and lay in bed doing dance moves with our hands
Laughing til we cried
and loving til we slept.
We used to say ‘I’ll miss you when I’m asleep.’
We slept so deeply.
We slept through the hurricane of ’87
and awoke to post-apocalyptic Brixton
Trees lying across Coldharbour Lane
Windows and roofs smashed
We loved each other so much
But he went to India,
and I to France.
Funny how, we have never seen each other since
He returned from India and turned to religion
And I, resolutely to America
L.A. memories are bathed in bright light.
I worked hard, played hard,
married, left and ran away
Onto the beach
He destroyed all his paintings once
And shredded his books
I hope he’s alright now.
He was a child of Hollywood and Vietnam
And all the damage fallout.
Sometimes I remember