Andrew McMillan
Cleethorpes
I was a red beach ball and you had the body that I longed for
Danny skinny and blond it felt American the way I learned
it from TV how easy it would be to move beyond family
or the school seating plan and find someone for myself and there
in the chlorine-starched Leisure Centre in between the wave machine
capsizing the surface of the water you kept trying to throw
the ball to your grandad but missing and I kept dutifully fetching
until I joined in Danny your pitch was two in front of my grandma’s
but I’d never seen you before did I ever tell you about the time
I got lost at the river bank among saplings no higher than my knee
and how rediscovering the path felt like a miracle my parents
are still not sure how that summer our summer my parents never came
it was me and you Danny running the caravan furlongs of the campsite
until our lungs had pebbles in them going to the forest the embers
of fires lighting the drymud ground painting ourselves in the charcoal
ash standing too long in one place and my plimsols from PE starting
to burn in the smoulder of the undergrowth Danny everything that summer
felt as easy as the tide as quick as fire in the dry brush and what happened
Danny the next year you didn’t come back or I didn’t and the time
between then and now has eroded Danny my hair gone my body
when I draw my eyes down to it somewhere between yours and your grandad’s
Danny and what of that contentment maybe one other time in my life
coming back home after sleeping out all night I had a friend with whom I shared
a one bed flat to keep costs low the fridge was always on the blink
never closing the bulb inside always threatening to blow or else too cold
and I complained and eventually a man was booked to come
and take a look the night before me and my friend had drunk ourselves out to dance
and my friend went back to ours with someone so I found someone and his smile
in the morning when he asked me to leave was so kind and by the time
I got back the repairs had been done the sheets still warm as I lay down to return
from the panic of a body let loose to find something fixed and orderly relit the child in me
shall I tell you a secret Danny sometimes I see clearly for miles but I still feel lost
is it possible I still love someone I only just remembered?
I’m still burning Danny can you see the smoke come find me I’ll leave the light on
ANDREW MCMILLAN is the author of three poetry collections published by Jonathan Cape. He lives in Manchester.