Tasting Menu

South London succulence

Photo by Brooke Lark on Unsplash

we ate pitta bread dipped in hummus
tzatziki
taramasalata
cherry tomatoes, olives and mozzarella
d
— r
— — i
— z
z
— l
— — i
— n
g
them
in extra virgin
olive oil
and drank violent glasses of Pinot Noir

my fingers, leaving greasy prints
hooked that lock of wayward hair behind your ear
and I admired the translucent smear
I left
on your cheek
imagining how I would kiss it clean later
or how you might s-w-i-p-e it clean
with the kitchen towel
you had draped over
your shoulder

in any case
I was easy with what might happen
listening to Janis Ian
and you crooning ‘At Seventeen’
as if your heart would burst
instead of mine

that summer was electric
louche-hipped and sun-kissed in South London
learning the ways of you and me
practising for when
you would leave your life on my doorstep
like the over-ripe figs
we abandoned in the fruit bowl
after taking our fill
drowning their lusciousness in cinnamon-spiced syrup
dipping them in mascarpone
and biting, oh
biting into their succulence

there’s too much food wasted these days
a bit like time
although we could have been something
we could have been really something
and everything else [in between]
even now

even now

Fond memories, until it all went pear-shaped (or fig-shaped!).

We were in our very early twenties. We prowled London’s lesbian and gay bars and then took our explorations to Oxford when she began studying a post-graduate course.

It was heady, exploratory, life-affirming and passionate. I learned so much about myself, my sexuality, my spirituality, what I enjoyed, what I thought I would enjoy but didn’t and where my boundaries lay.

I learned about the kind of life I wanted.

It was delicious. While it lasted. It was divine.

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If you enjoyed this, you can buy me a coffee - fair warning, I’ll buy books! Or notebooks. Or stationery.

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And.. Or… you can do this!

Either way, it will be very welcome!