She used to live where the road forked,
A hundred yards from my front door.
She had hair that fluffed and waved and folded
And I knew that it would engulf me
If I could get near enough –
Near enough to Leandra.
She’d flounce and bounce down Morland Avenue,
Past our house, called ‘Avisford’, she’d flow
And I wanted to go – I wanted to know,
I wanted to show how good we could be
If only I could be
One day I got up the nerve
To walk the light-year of tarmac with a gift,
A brand new, seven-inch single melting in my hand.
Ten paces I took, then he roared up –
And swept her, like a git, from her front door –
The front door of Leandra.
How on earth could she go with him?
She and I were just sixteen and full of promise.
He was so much older than we –
Nineteen and with a motorbike – so old – so unfair
That he would get to drown in all that hair
The hair of .....
© AlBarz, 2004