Image © Copyright Amy Charles Media 2014

1 Dec 2015

Between Subbuteo Fixtures

Hidden in the attic,
as though the referees wore Bernard's Watch;
Subbuteo heroes
await on tenterhooks.
Reporter's notepads at the ready;
teamsheets scribbled in Period 5,
when I should've been taking homework.
Alien Ant Farm on cassette, on repeat
(the original Smooth Criminal to untrained ears),
and my Nokia 3210.

Sammi confirmed that Gemma said "yes"
from the opposite side of the court.
Wimbledon hooked everyone that summer.
Subbuteo subbed for backhand swings.
With hands that read:
"Gemma 'n' Matty 4eva",
in scented pen.
With hands shrivelled by sweat
throughout Tomb Raider
at Cineworld.
Neither knowing when
to let go.

The pranks calls ceased on the landline.
You'd always let it ring twice,
so that nobody picked up,
but knowing I'd always call back.
A few dates postponed.
Subbuteo resumed.
And then a text,
on the 3210,
in injury time.
"I'm dumping you for James Thompson."
We'd lasted 7 days.

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