One Down, Five To Go (Poetry)

First contact —
He sent a letter
got my box number from a singles ad
I’d placed one
feeling-sorry-for-myself afternoon
in the wake of divorce
and finding I’d no social life
it had seemed a positive move
albeit a slightly risky
thing to do

It was a biroed scrawl —
big untidy handwriting
on a sheet torn out of
some cheap notebook
perhaps that should have told me
more than enough
warned me what I might
be letting myself in for

He wasn’t the only fish
that took the wide-cast bait
there were several more —
half a dozen nibbles at the line
they almost filled a week
a queuing up of awkward dates

While others blur identities
his oddness stood apart —
the only one who came
by train. A non-driver

So I met him at the station
not as romantic
as it sounds
and we had drinks
at the pub opposite
the conversation clumsy
until, by chance, we found
a common interest

He mentioned he kept rabbits
then I admitted, age eleven
I’d had pet rabbits of my own
his eyes lit up —
enthusiasm like a flood
burst through
and he asked me
endless questions
as though I was
some sort of expert
he hung on to my words
like this new gospel
was what he had
been waiting for ...

Thus he became
a kind of convert
and in retrospect it’s hardly credible
he hung around so long
he missed the last train
and I invented excuses why
he really couldn’t kip on my floor
like a refugee
or some homeless puppy

It ended there. Alone
I went home to an invalid
mother — who didn’t exist
full of guilt
and disappointment
but with one
not entirely ruthless stroke
I crossed him off
my list