My eyes remembered her
glued themselves on her slim waist, polka dot dress
but she wasn’t a clown;
my eyes wouldn’t let go
but I couldn’t remember. She turned smiled said:
“My name is Alice we met in Athens thirty years ago.”
“But you’re young and I’m old so it can’t be.”
“Yes it can I’m a goddess, you see”
The liveried driver of the Black Mercedes
blinded by the afternoon sun didn’t see Alice.
Polka dots rolled in the gutter
eagerly picked up by me
now suddenly, a ten year old boy.
Coloured glass pearl
beautiful to see and hold
but they can’t tell the future.