I remember the taste of destiny on the wind

Poem

I remember the taste of destiny on the wind,
Like the merest hint of autumn
At the end of a summer’s day,
When all of your friends have just left,
Their voices still ringing in your ears.

I’ve always thought myself a
Bright dancer,
Owning the very constellations
On which I moved most sensual.
Only a fool would deny
That fortune was my friend.

But seldom my bedfellow.
I may have been a lover,
A mate, a poet, a companion,
But I’ve also been alone.
The hours I’ve had of reckless abandon
Resulted just in abandon.
I didn’t waste the years.
I wasted myself.

And now I hold on to the present.
Another lonely night won’t make
The slightest difference.
My soul shakes so often
That I disregard it as a
Natural phenomenon,
Nothing to be scared of,
Like thunder.

I remember love as an oblivion,
Cancelling common sense and
Making me act so foolish,
Heart racing in the promise
Of pure physicality,
And I acted the fool,
And easy, and occasionally sleazy,
And thinking of this now
Makes my stomach queasy.

And that was living!
Grinning in the kitchen,
Tomfoolery with the fridge,
Waiting for the toaster with
Your arm around my neck,
Your tongue in my ear,
I never once got burned.
Japes in the bathroom,
Silliness in the hallway,
Falling on the sofa and it
felt so good.
How domestic we both were!

One of these days
I’m going to work it out.

Gaze into my eyes, you said.
We trekked for eight days across the scrub.
The princes in their castle one by one surrendered.
There was hail on the ground hard ice nuggets,
Limestone rock strata, fossilised sea creatures.

Gaze into my eyes, you said.

A silver locket with a small clasp of hair
Bound in ribbon
Honey from tropical climes
A flash of dark from the hypnotist’s cape
Mythic beasts a prowl in the night
There was no escape,
There was no escape.

One of these days
I’m going to work it out.
A splinter stuck under my skin,
One of these days,
I’m going to work it out.
A hard yell tearing myself from pain.
One of these days
I’m going to work it out.
A maniacal grin you’re the hooded fiend
And I fell at your feet
One of these days
I’m going to work it out.

Time passes.
Disco dancer laser baby,
A loose mover, a midnight groover,
How often do I get a chance
To become the disco king?
I move, though,
To forget
But it’s all in
Muscle memory.

Enough about me . .
Enough about me . .

A sunny morning red bright elongated shadows
On the pavement,
You hurried past and stopped,
We were both aghast,
Spoke of meeting up knowing
We never would.

And I felt that taste on the wind once more.
Another autumn breathing lightly
On a late night summer breeze.

Author: Robert Garnham

Performance and spoken word artist.

One thought on “I remember the taste of destiny on the wind”

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