Tuesday, 3 December 2019

Ice Dreams

What shall we do.....

I just gave someone a lift, they were standing at the side of the bridge where the road turns sharply up hill.

Her name was Loulou; she was hardly twenty.

She was wearing blue jeans, ripped around the knee and two or three woollen sweaters; the morning had been cold but the sun was strong by the time I crossed the bridge.

I was eating an ice cream when I stopped so I offered her one; I had a box.

She took a white chocolate one.

She looked like you.

A lot like you.

A lot!

Ok, you as you were when you were twenty, but I still felt that I was sharing my car with you.

And my ice dreams.

 formerly published in The Archives.

No comments: