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
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