A few years ago
I came across
Edmund Davie
a poet
sitting along the Thames with
a small table
a sheaf of paper
an ancient typewriter.
On the spot,
I could choose a theme
he would tap tap tap a poem
for me.
I didn’t do it.
And suffered
a twinge of regret
every time I was in the area.
Yesterday!
There he sat!
But it was cold.
“It only takes minutes.” He said.
“The Future",then", I said.
On the South Bank -
In front of the Tate Modern,
Something inserted and removed itself
from my unknown wish list.
