FAY BY THE BRICKLAYER'S ARMS.

A BOY AND GIRL IN LONDON IN THE 1950S

You met Fay
by the Bricklayer’s
Arms

she in her catholic
school uniform
satchel by her side
hand held

you hot
from the school day
sticky in your
grey flannels
and black blazer
tie undone
open necked shirt

thought I’d meet you
here today
she said
I got the bus down
from school

good to see you
you said
putting away
the football cards
in an inside
pocket

how was school today?
she asked

usual brainwashing
you said

she walked beside you
as you went along
the New Kent Road

how was your day?
you asked

don’t want
to talk about it
she said
I just want to talk
about other things

the traffic roared by
the fumes
in the air

how about coming
to the cinema Saturday?
you asked

I haven’t any money
she replied

I can pay
my old man
will give me
the money

best not
in case my father
finds out
she said

he needn’t know
you said

but if he did
she said
there’d be
hell to pay

you turned right
down Harper Road
she seeking out
your hand
you feeling her hand
in yours

what if I asked him?
you said

God no
that would make it worse
he would think
I put you up
to it

silence settled
between you

what about going
to South Bank
we could watched
the boats and ships
along the Thames
and have ice creams
and soda pop?

Saturday?
she asked

yes
you said
after breakfast?

she nodded
her eyes alight
a smile opening
on her lips
her warm hand
gripping yours

the childhood
love adventure
out of doors.