I can still hear her voice, sharp as flint.
Desperately trying to sound tough, almost succeeding
But not quite.
She didn't frighten me, trying to pick a fight.
She didn't understand or know
That females who pick fights never scare me.
But those instead, calming in manner,
Lilting in voice, soothing in manipulation;
Now they scare the hell out of me.
Luckily she was none of these
And after ten minutes of unsubtle interrogation;
What was my name? Where was I from?
Did I have a girlfriend back home?
Receiving replies as sharp as her questions
And finding herself mentally unfit for the challenge
Of a verbal Flamenco with me round the ball park,
She gave up and stomped off into my memory.
I sat alone for hours afterwards on that swing
Just staring at the fiery sphere of the sun
Long after it had plunged into the sea.
Sitting,thinking, silently alive
And being watched by those of my time.
Seemingly fascinated by my solitary ponderings;
Was I alright? Was I lost?
An occasional adult would ask.
Only in my world
Which I thought great.
