Love Poem for a Mod

I think you should know
That I’ve developed a taste
For the smell of two stroke
And warm parkas.

I think you should know
That since I’ve met you
I’ve down-loaded
Quadrophenia
And the back catalogue of The Who,
Booked a holiday to Brighton,
Got a target tattoo.
And when I’m at the shops
I buy Ben Sherman tops.

I think you should know
(even though I don’t want kids;
it’s far too soon).
I’m naming my first born, Weller
And my second, Moon.

I think you should know
That at night I dream of scooter sounds
And the rubber soled tread
Of desert boots along my path.
I have, on occasion,
It has to be said,
Found myself leaping out of bed
To paw at the window,
Thinking that you’ve finally come
To smoke away the night
And tell me camping tales
Of The Isle of White.

I think you should know,
That I constantly remind myself
That I am just a fling,
A casual acquaintance,
One you sometimes ring.
In spite of this I find
You are often on my mind.
I want to get to know you better.
I’m a little bit in love
with you and your Lambretta.

 

Retrospect
Linda Nevill

In an attempt to impress a man, the narrator of this poem learns everything she can about the Mod culture. In spite of her best efforts the object of her affection remains remote and unmoved. Research for this piece included the acquisition of a parka and a memorable trip to Brighton! If anybody does see the Mod in question, the writer would like her tent back!

Emma Purshouse