Third Degree Gurns

I do this each year, usually November The box is heavier than I remember I lift off the lid, inhale the odour First it's the Yardley my Dad used to wear A giant birthday card, a 21st treat Hides the treasures I buried beneath A removal of this, I'm suddenly there Back to a time of no worries or cares Silly old letters, words of love lost Old theatre scripts, a small diamond cross Cheesy song lyrics, wrote with intention of giving. Your marriage my only prevention I kept every one, to preserve memories That many moons ago, you belonged to me There's cinema tickets, ragged and spoiled You gave your last Rolo so I kept the foil A white envelope that smells of your house A severe difference between then and now And then comes the photo's I squirreled away Why do I torture myself in this way? Snapshots of people I forgot I knew Of parties and whitey's and hullabaloo Those LSD nights, third degree gurns Burdenless shoulders, pink with sunburn A dog-earred schoolbook covered in doodles Traditional student living on noodles Chases from police with weed in the car Walking to the beach in shorts and a bra Tokens and proof of infinate liberty But for now, for another year, I put the lid back on me