On bus to Ally Pally
I can smelling my Tata’s
man-splash
that I tap on
cheek and chin.
My date clothes have condition washing,
and my
special occasion leather jacket
make me handsome man.
Jess smell of
summer day in lovely garden.
She have skinny jeans,
red lips,
black lines under eyes,
hair like the girl band.
Bus people stare
because she is complete
wow vision.
We don’t do much speaking on bus.
We staring at world outside.
The skating is not graceful romance like Olympics.
Music DJ plays
doof
doof
doof!
Lights flash
red,
green,
blue.
‘Hey, guys, welcome to Ice Nation!’ DJ shout.
Boys, girls, dates, friends, gangs
ferocious fly in their skates,
zip zoom.
Ice spraying every place.
I hold on to side.
‘I thought you could skate?’
Jess saying with snigger.
‘It is different ice in Romania.’
I fall
five,
ten,
double ten
times.
My clean clothes and leather
get
wet.
Jess does whoosh circle alone
and backways skate too.
She could be professional ice woman.
I leave holding side
and bang my bum arse.
‘Come on,’ she say with hands out to me.
I reach for her.
She slide closer.
We touch
fingers.
Fingers become chain link.
They snake.
We touch
hands.
No …
We hold hands.
And the electric
flows
between our skin,
bones,
bodies.
We make three big circle around rink
with hands holding –
always holding –
and it’s the most
magic amazing minutes of
my life.
I want so many more.
And
more.