Hardrock Village (Week 8)

When you were young

You came upstairs frequently

And told us about

who you’d just seen there

From Bowie on his alledged

(then) final tour

To Chuck Berry

who’d arrived on stage

over a hour and a half late

And was bottled off

Almost straight after,

Melanie who sat on

the edge of the stage

singing requests

from the audience all night

until she lost her voice

and the Faces whom you didn’t

stop laughing at for ages

after their drummer

fainted and fell on his arse

halfway through their set

and stank so hard of weed

you said people surely

would have been able

to smell it at the Cricket ground

 during the following day’s play.

Each night fever pitched

with a electric atmosphere

covered in slight sunlight inside

and crowds qeuing seemingly

for miles outside to get in,

and beer which you said

that tasted that watered down

you thought they must

have bought in by the bucket

from the nearby ship canal.

Memories tied in knots

Between fences and hedges

Down Chester Road

Towards Man Utd’s ground

Or Longford theatre.

Marks left in the making

Across boarded up factories

In Trafford Park

Igniting your limitations

With your limited chanting,

Holding in your hearts

Memories like maps

Which hover between

Between a spear and happiness

Before sneaking past our father

Asleep on the coach.

(Week 8 asked us to write about shops on the high street. The above venue is now a B & Q and the piece above was going to contrast the difference between them both but alas went off in a totally different direction).