This was posted some time ago on the critique board. I'm putting it up here now because it relates to my most recent posting 'young at heart but slow to mature' You never know. Someone might find it interesting.


Heraklion

Nikos Kazandzakis Airport - Heraklion.
The Abu Graib of all departure lounges.
torture at the best of times.
Holiday over, back to earth we go
to all the grim reality
of worry stress and woe

Hordes of British tourists in their unbecoming dress.
paging through the Sun, the Mail the Mirror and Express
printed sheets of useless un-informative dross
see them catching up with all the latest on the gossip
it's the same old sorry story,
England's faded glory
no surprises, nothing new
just a running commentary on who is F**KING who
red top reminders of salacious seeking prurience
tabloid Grand Britannia.
a dispiriting experience
maybe I should switch the flight to one that lands in Chania


Not a seat to spare.
Floor space only and hardly even that.
ah, but over there, a step on a stair
will have to do, though I'd much prefer
the comfort of a nice relaxing pew

But oh well, never mind
for what is really on my mind
is the mobile phone I left behind
containing all the contacts that I fear I'll never find
again

and if that were not enough
I'm feeling really rough
from the Cretan hospitality
a night’s geniality
of dubious morality
yes, say no more,
We've both been there before
I haven't changed that much
I still enjoy the thrill of a strangers touch
Don’t you?

the night before departure
Dionysus the bacchanal and Eros the archer
had sent me off in classic style
A night on the tiles
they'd kept me up and wide awake
til the sound of cicadas had ushered in the break
of dawn as she rose with her fingers pink
by which time I fear
I'd had far too much to drink

So here we are back at Kazantzakis
With a grave sense of dislocation
And a double dose of agitation
cus England is my destination.

But hold on a minute, skip a beat
Check that woman over there with a seat
in the corner.
Niiiiiiice.
Whoops!! She's noticed that I'm looking.
Oh my God, she's looking back.
Look cool. Be careful not to stare.

Maybe now it's safe to take another little peep.
Damn, she's definitely looking at me looking at her now.
Could it mean she fancies me?
surely not
but there she is again, holding the look this time.
A quick glance behind me and beside me
to see if it is me or someone else she's looking at.
No I don't think so. Could it be attraction when I'm least expecting it?
Oh well, that's nice.
Something to fantasize about to help the journey home.

Whoa!! She's coming over.
Surely not to me.
But there she is, she's smiling at me now. .

"Hi" says I, rather sheepishly.
"Hi�, says she, wow
“what are you doing here?
It is you isn't it. I thought it was".

I recognise you, yes, your face is familiar
But who, where, and when,
and did or do I know you well?


Bluffing through the pleasantries and waiting for a clue
I think I've got it now. You look a lot like
Errr yes, you call me Michael
Crete is mentioned and the motorcycle.
now I know with certainty and what a stroke of luck.
for I do remember well, your name.
Not too difficult because I've thought about you on and off
and only very recently in fact.


Now I'm all a fluster, taken by surprise
Tounge tied, paralysed,
I'm captured by the beauty of your effervescent eyes
You say you've been to Bali, or that's what I thought I heard you say,
and I'm thinking you mean the island off the coast of India,
until I get a grip and realise you couldn't possibly be changing planes in Crete.
You've changed. How long has it been? 10 years?
But still you're looking good,
Oh well, I’d better go, they’re calling my flight,

But before I leave the terminal and disappear from site
I sneak a last look before loosing you again
And I think to myself what a shame
it is that we haven't got the time or place
to sneak a proper sexual embrace
just for old time’s sake

Should we swap numbers and addresses
I suggest.we do
You agree, so we do and

I'm in the air and thinking of the times we had together.
wanting to catch up with your news,
wishing you could catch up with mine
Having naughty thoughts on the plane
Wishing I could see you again

action replays.
conjuring up the memories I have of you.
The night it all started at the Paleahora club.
with a dance
Remember Danny who thought he had a chance
With you?
Later on I drove you to a sandy beach
where we gorged on the juices of a ready ripe peach
hah, not literally,
metaphorically I mean, a simile
I'm just trying to make it rhyme with a ‘figure of speech’
You asking me before you left if we could meet again
and did I have a mistress back in England.
a wife yes, but was there any other
could I be your lover
Ah, what a good and welcome question that was.

And so began a regular affair
London B & B's. I don't recall exactly where
but surreptitiously we met
then a memorable moment which I'll never forget,
a red datsun I think it was,
parked up late at night somewhere
beside the river Thames.
I can still picture your ravaging beauty.
The two of us were savaging each other in the passenger seat
You wouldn't believe how many times I have replayed that moment
in my fantasies
A frantic search for some privacy
a risky spot behind a garden hedge,
somewhere off Sloane square remember?
On a cold November night
with nowhere else to go
crouching low
trying to keep out of sight
God I felt so horny that night

Then finally a telephone call that brought it to an end.
you told me you had a new boyfriend
Yep ok. that's cool. I understood. and good for you.
I suppose it had to happen in the end
I could hardly protest,
So I wished you all the best.
And that was it. We parted company.
thanks for the memories.
End of story, or so I thought.

Isn't it strange that we should meet again in Crete.
and how bizarre it is that as I grieved
the loss of friends and contacts I may never yet retrieve
that fate should bring me into contact with
a friend I thought I'd lost, someone I'd believed
that I would never see again.

Ima, what's going on?
Thought I swallowed an English travel agency after reading this one!
And my head hurts because there's no floor space left for my feet either!
Phewww, I'll have teach you the short cut around the world....just fly in straight lines not between them!
I'm a much better driver than a poet, and my pedigree states Crash and Burn for both: But then I find short and sweet with plenty of head room in the readers seat works much better than simply the driver directing both. Point don't lead. But then I'm an OZZIE, and we all fall way short over here because J Howards at the head of the psychosocial dawfists PAT"E, and he's the obvious runt of all the yellow livered litters over here! Pun intended!


Love JAsper

Great Idea Jasper. How about this for those with short attention span:-

back from holiday in Crete
couldn't find a friggin seat
spotted an old Shiela
how I longed to feel her
long time estrangement
so I made arrangement
strange how it went

Better?

Thanks for the laugh

It should be: Thanks for the holiday in a f***en create?
Bombs and hacks away

Love Jasper