Later that evening, she walks home;
over the stone wall
onto the flower beds, the sun shone
and from the lawn I carried drinks
from outside back in.
And when she danced,
her bra strap showed.
My arms slid under hers;
by morning we were on the road.
When I was young I would meet the girls,
take them home or something.
Paddy Summerfield: WRITINGS 