An Excerpt from a Verse Memoir
I
Ann was my angel, a Danish writer
I met in Assisi in ’86.
With her, my days were so much brighter.
We even agreed on politics.
She was a miracle sent from heaven,
and we got hitched in ’87.
We spent our honeymoon in Greece
camping around the Peloponnese.
One afternoon we’d try more hitching,
from Megalopolis, just for fun,
and waited for hours in the sun.
Ann’s barely started bloody bitching
when this red sports car strikes her dumb.
Kalamata, here we come.
II
After our first few nights together,
we sailed from Ancona to Zadar.
One night in Belgrade, Ann asked whether
I’d any ambitions. “To play the guitar,”
was my spontaneous, only answer,
although I’d dreamed of being a dancer.
The following day, I finally bought
the fifty-quid guitar I’d sought.
In ’81 I’d been enchanted,
Greek-island-hopping with Barbara Anne,
by someone performing Cohen’s “Suzanne”.
The wish I’d made would now be granted.
All I’d wanted was to do
exactly the same as he’d done too.
III
Ann was returning to her studies
in Århus. Let me come along.
We visited my Oxford buddies
on our way. They had this bong
of Afghan black the whole duration,
which was for me a huge temptation:
I had to get completely wrecked,
which Ann could simply not respect.
She wasn’t someone to deceive me
and told me straight she couldn’t cope
with witnessing me doing dope.
I couldn’t bear the thought she’d leave me,
instantly resolved to quit,
and never once regretted it.
IV
Århus was perfect for a dreamer:
live music in the bars all night,
the Wednesdays with Ole Frimer
at Fatter Eskil our delight.
Saturdays, though, would take some beating:
back late, we’d always end up eating
eggs and toast and cheese we’d dress
with salt and pepper, onion, cress.
And when we’d tired of seeing the city,
we’d ramble south along the shore,
Marselisborg to Moesgård,
the oaks on the cliffs so goddamn pretty.
Learning Danish wasn’t hard.
I practised it in our backyard.
Duncan Gillies MacLaurin was born in Glasgow and lives in Denmark. His poetry has been published widely and has appeared in several anthologies, most recently in Extreme Sonnets and Extreme Formal Poetry. He has had three collections published. Many of Duncan’s pieces are songs rather than poems, and he also sets music to his poems. He is also a keen chess player.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 