Auchterless (Elegy For George Brown) Poem by GRANT FRASER

Oh! I knew you,
should I say something,

make a comment...

this morning I couldn't
switch off the echoes
and memories,

especially your way of,
periodically stopping,
before breaking forth...

like a quiet stirring
bustling bursting dam...

and then off again
at a button,

Our friendship
in the beginning,

you wanted to film me,
at work, of all places,

how I made money,

interesting social factor,

and at that ramshackle
old pub,
along Castlegate,
when you showed up,
a serious film maker…

as I spat and ground
down every word,
into literal pepper,
blew it into spaces
and faces,

you handed me it later
on VHS,
but I could only ever
watch it in snippets,

'well I'm a word man,
still,

in here,
if nowhere else...',

and hopefully when I'm
gone -
some might read this,

life is short,
cut down quicker
for you,

'Installation Artist',
a graduate from
the Gray school,

come electrician
and handy man...
this is how you kept
it all going,

and Father figure,
for some years.
to my first born,
Isaac,

last night
his mum, Tina, said:

'They should
scatter your ashes -
up at Auchterless',

more or less,
come on...
every single
leaf of ash
I guess,

you told me where
to find the key once,
out back,
near the water pump,
and for five days,
I held fort there,

but that's another
story...

'Auchterless
more or less...',

but you died
there all alone,

but at least you
were home,
you 'Marxist! ',

I agree though:

this product may contains evil,

(money)

But complete equality
That would never work,
What ever does though?

Nothing to reach for…

Should have accompanied
You to the “Belmont Cinema”,
That day,
You looked so thin, worn out,
After that mystery illness,

Didnt know it was the last
Time I’d see you...

Anyway your still
back there,
Somewhere,
greying and distinguished,

Poised behind spectacles,
Smiling broadly,
Stomaching something,
you felt, we had to resist…