I'm reading
London Triptych -
Thinking of Geoff -
How I first saw him -
At some party with Rich, one young summer -
Wearing a flying jacket -
Not dancing -
Even then, that air of louche melancholy -
*
Later, reading the diary he kept of his travels -
The words he scrawled -
Pages still scented by the bidis he smoked -
The rides hitched with the American girl -
The months in Tehran -
The stony fields -
The tea house gardens in seared villages -
The kisses of the tribesman near Kandahar -
*
I remember him casting coins -
A white moon above our house -
The night air scented by ripe apples -
Candles lit in the low ceilinged room -
Someone had put on Ricky Lee Jones -
Geoff saying he'd cast The Well -
Wind over water -
*
He knew the names of birds -
In Yorkshire, he skinned a rabbit, made rabbit stew -
An icy stream ran past a field of thistles -
We drank red wine listening to the rain -
*
Memories of him are like scattered pearls