Out Of The Shade 1965 Poem by Terry Collett

I sat with Tilly
in the park
in her lunch hour
from work.

How was your morning?
I said.

Busy as hell,
she said,
never seen
so many customers;
needed this rest.

I passed her
a sandwich
from the paper bag,
and ate one myself.

She looked sexy
in her work uniform
especially as the dress
rode above her knees.

What have you
been doing?
She said.

My half day;
so I thought
I'd come see you,
I said,
plus I wanted to buy
an LP of Elvis.

Did you buy it?
She said.

Yes,
and I showed her.

I'm more into the Beatles,
she said.

You'll have to bring
one of their albums
and we can play it
on my record player
in my room,
I said.

I'm sure my mum
will let me, will she?
Tilly said.

Of course if
she doesn't know,
I said.

Benny she
knows everything;
I bet she has
spies on me,
Tilly said.

All innocent,
just playing an LP,
I said.

She smiled;
innocent with you,
be more innocent
if Christine Keeler
was involved,
Tilly said.

My mum wont mind
you listening to Elvis
or the Beatles,
I said.

I'll see;
until she's
in a good mood,
Tilly said.

I'll be old by then,
I said.

She laughed.

I will try
and get to your place;
I'll tell her
your mum said
it is ok,
and she'll be there,
Tilly said.

I sipped some coke,
and she ate
her sandwich.

I gazed at her knees,
at the way
the work uniform
hid her gems.

I can open up
a bottle of wine
over from Christmas,
I said.

Tilly raised her eyebrows;
I'll try and come;
no promises made.

I nodded,
and felt the sun
on my head
and wished
for some shade