Too naive back then for envy –
found instead a stirring
fascination in the gaudy dress,
the stance,
the polished diction;
he knew I was impressed,
a simple rustic lad
with much less polish yet
in all improbability
a grandiose vocabulary.
He used to test
the range of words,
a party joke that played
into his hands
until I learned.
In time when I became blasé
and teased his made-up air
of the inchoate
neo-sophisticate
we parted ways.
We remain
good friends –
no envy cruelled a giddy scene,
no dour or lasting enmity,
just fascination’s end.
I am assured
of more in you than he
the girl who had preferred me said,
pleased to stake her portion
free of keepers claims.
© 16 March 2007, I.D. Carswell
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