PAST IMPERFECT -poetry by Allan Lake

You return to that sleepy little city

that once was your home, that you

still adore more than any other,

before or since. Not your birth-

place, but hearts make choices.

Some things finish, don’t quite end.

Quiet streets much the same,

much altered. Industrial area along

the river became townhouses and

cafes but maze-like bookshop

in the centre is gone, historic post

office with a phallic clock tower

became a tourist info hub.

There, but not. You once knew all

one-way streets would encounter

familiar faces on route to bank

but now there are no friendly faces

and the bank is gone. Moved?

Died? Became unrecognisable,

unlike unchanging you?

And about the time you start to accept

you are a sentimental fool to think

you could just return to whatever

it was you thought you were missing,

there’s some old neighbour who looks

twice, stops, recognises you.

With brightly coloured hair and trendy

glasses, you would not have known her

but with prompting your confusion

turns into unproportional delight

and though you do no such thing,

you must resist the urge to embrace,

possibly kiss her on both of those

peachy old cheeks.

____________________________________________________________________Past Imperfect

by Allan Lake

Bio:Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada, now living in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.