Poem for Simon by Ian Loughran

I remember Simon’s smile

 

Waiting in Skelhorne street station, you humming tracks from station to station.

As was your way.

Me humming tracks from No more heroes, as was my way.

Trying not to catch the eyes, of the hard ass guys.

The Skelhorne Scalies, they failed to score, and now want to make you sore.

To give meaning to their evening, as was their way.

Lucky the bus opens up, the last L3 from town to Crosby.

It went at 11.30, full of people quite squiffy.

 

You said your shoes were on fire, I called you a liar.

We both laugh till our sides ache, as was often our way.

We talk of music, of Zepplin, the Velvets and of course Bowie.

As was our way.

Skelhorne Street Scalies, now far away, not that we cared, we always went our own way.

 

Susan Savage and the Amazingly Insane Mango Orchestra Featuring Hugo Ball in his paper suit and conical hat.

It was our band name, its 88 characters would fit in a tweet, but flyer printers did not find it neat.

We allowed no abbreviations, much to promoter consternations.

 

You once built a synthesiser from wire and glue, there was nothing you could not do,

if it was a thing you put your mind to.

Multi-talented was a perfect description, for someone building a synth in a kitchen.

We sent a tape to your cus Paul Mac, He sent encouraging words back.

Cheers Macca.

 

Bethesda Wales, where we last met, for chips and ales. And talked and talked of music and girls.

We laughed till our sides ached, as was our way.

 

Now you’re gone, what do I say? It’s the hardest part to write, to get it right.

Where do I start? Best to go straight from the heart.

I miss your big heart.

I miss your friendship.

I miss your talent.

I miss your SMILE,

and YOUR way.

You were one in a billion.

And still are to me.

 

©Ian Loughran 2017

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