... thirty three years...my ohh my
As if yesterday, but a whole lifetime into the next universe (all that must be stopped, too.. Quantum wave theory its as if its only just been discovered a bit too late for Mister Tolle to toll you on that unknowable one..)
war breaks out Sarajevo...we watched... together at times..
FF a few months a
(OOPS LAST POST: 'key posts': i haven't even started on Croatia yet... basically when they have been dealt with, any REA:L "serbian warrior" at their embassy
will have me compulsorily
on their poetry
wish list and tourist brochure
with or without her
never mind the only real poet in history to rhythmically
methodologically
get Serbia
rhymin' with
labia...
no smug Croat (quite rude too in fact, put even the poutiest Serb to shame ...and there is an HONOUR among real walkers in that they offer to share their snax...ALWAYS... sat above a lovely bay in my fuckin' country! gettin' full on sincere .. " best spot to see the seals, here... " )
Is gonna tell me they are seventeen years ahead of Serbian accession, at least...
anyway forget her (and her gang) for ..now...
Thirty three (or maybe two i have notes, not here) ...
Christmas ninety two i guess
We... we... looked after quite together
The lovely (just a tad Pretty Woman affliced) half breed.
mum from one side of the 'border'
dad the other
by about 5 km
the border going right through her heart...
and thus ours too
And the next summer I drove said halfie
and her bestie
the very very very sulky pukka Serb..
undertsandable her true agonising heartfelt genuinely 'traumatisin' ' tragedy
most of her folks splatted by the other lot
an actual good excuse to be silent
All the way those 300km over to the lovely Aberdoveyan beach
Her and I ..and her three bundles of joy.
A year it took me to get to that perfect joy
And common good..
Except i realise these last few
especially today .. atchin tan best one, new
said to the NAz the other day
" i have absolutely no idea who she was... two whole years then quite a few off and ons..
no idea... could have been from another planet....
still don't know
that's the truly English..one"
Until it crystalised..
the eyes
of the stream, of fairly fancy four wheel drivin'
Their look.
Arrived here (as past region)
Nigel year, then 2020 by the legion
London tractor between their legs
Lost .. a bit nervy... out of their environment,
a little discontent
But when they hit peak-flock of loads like them
once wonderfullest mother hen
became...
It's the stare: "I am in 50 grands worth of largeish four wheels driving.."
Even in the small dull little towns never mind lanes
and poppin to their local Spar,
as the've done every day for years
its the sharp focus only in their frontage
the complete 100% " don't you think i will ever age"
"I am NOW ... in charge of my country cottage destiny..
nobody ever existed, except mine and me.."
Which is so sad as in a big tank (when an old Polo will get you just as far just as fast the narrow roads so utterly bereft...of even regular passing places, in places.. and no ice ever.. hardly any mud, even)
especially...one is so not in danger, above the fray
on may just perhaps now'n again
take the time to notice others ...or even smile
Now i know who she was....
all along
my my how one can be so so wrong
But then i come from a region
chameleons would be road squashed
hidden in the real roadloads of mud..
or die of actual natural freezin'.
rather than
oops...nope.. maiden and 'head'
are an insult to real virgins if Miss Understood
