The Date.
It is midnight I was to meet her at nine under railways station’s clock.
I waited to eleven, something might have happened, the train delayed
(his was before mobile phones were invented,) I didn’t have her home
number. I walked along the docks where harbour light is forever throwing
itself into dark water. I threw the flowers I had bought her into the sea
and saw them sink slowly into the sea only the wrapping paper floats on
the surface of despair. I was seventeen it took great courage to invite her
out, this humiliation and she had such a sincere smile. Why couldn’t she
had said no in the first place? It was what I had expected her to do.
A fog horn blare in the distance, the world knows I have been stood up.
no escape if anyone asks I will have to play the clown, make a funny story
to hide my sorrow for not dating a girl I thought I loved.