Things I have stolen
Emerson, Lake and Palmer's Tarkus.
Gatefold sleeve. Second-hand.
From Latrobe Records.
Hippy sellers. 1976 perhaps.
Favourite track: Iconoclast.
Now gone, sold or traded.
Martin Carthy's Sweet Wivelsfield.
New, sealed. Remains in my collection.
Deram Records. Folk twang.
Aware still, from the opening pluck,
when stylus descends,
of the purloin factor.
A Clockwork Orange.
Anthony Burgess. From newsagent.
As a paper boy.
Thin Penguin paperback. Red cover.
Green, yellow clobber, black bowler hat cover image
Now missing unaccountably from bookshelf.
Bottle of claret.
From gardening employer
who sacked me.
At sixteen.
Mixed with Coke.
Drunk in the afternoon.
Round fifty cent bits. From Dad's bedside drawer.
Between fifteen and twenty probably,
over a two year period.
Mostly converted to packs
of cheap cigarettes.
Black and White.
Two cups of coffee, one skinny,
one soy latte, from
Piccolo Meccanico cafe,
Diamond Creek.
Just walked away one morning blithely.
Does unintentional stealing count?
Never cool. Never caught.
Not slick - lucky.
Wanted. Took.
Transactional mismatch.
Imbalance. Deal
dashed.
This no poem of loss.
Poem of gain?
Poem?
Equations unrighted.
Am I yet
this thief?
bw
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