Beyond The Foyer Poem by Ian Bowen

Now my schooldays
were newly faded memories
and work saw me dark morning walk
to a factory full of fumes,
Saturdays became
my only hunting opportunity.

Dressed in my fashion
of those sixties days,
I marched the isles
of the Woolworth store,
chatting up the girls
at every counter, even
‘the one’on the knitting pattern till,
who would become tonight’s date;
hoping she would not ruffle
my very latest hair.

Then, in the back seats
of flea pits, we petted.
Dangerous in the pitch black.
Afraid of torches
that flashed like voyeurs.
We moaned to the Pathe News
and only watched the film
when our lips were too numbed
from lashing tongues and teeth.

I recall all this today as I watch
films alone, in new century cinemas.

I can not reach to plant a kiss,
for you are no longer here.
Our life together
has gone with the wind
our pride and passion
petered to a final stop.
You now rest in different rows...

your ticket torn in half.