The Transfer Station

He ignored the warning signs and moved carefully forward and backward In the rocking chair of swept memories and went for a wild white knuckle ride Swayed but not faltering although he swung like a junky on amphetamine pills Soaked in recollections gathered momentum and made dents in the floor boards He pictured himself as a young man courting his sweetheart and kissed the bride Life had dealt him difficult cards but he had upped his game in the view of defeat Made allowances for bad hands and survived depression divorce and uncertainty Valued his shortcomings and turned obstacles and flaws into forces of challenge Photographs trinkets newspaper clippings and baby shoes swished past in a flash A rollercoaster adventure of vertigo and nausea but also of thrilling escapes Parachuting down abysses cliff diving and bungee jumps into a red-hot volcano Confined to a nursing home he refused to accept the dumping ground it seemed His conscience was clear but that signalled that truths were merely impermanent And the subconscious tends to rest below an iceberg of prominent falsifications Like laundering imperfection with fabric softener on kind collages and tapestry Photo-shopping was before his time but he knew to cut and paste with his mind Racing thoughts and blustering emotions collected on the windscreen of his soul First pay packet for an old Enfield motorcycle then traded for an Austin Minor Redundancy after the miner’s strike and still both his children made it to College Some say it’s been a junk yard but he fathoms recycling for future generations 26th October 2019