Pat Hodges kissed you once, although quite shy,
In sixty-two. Small crowds in Mathew Street
Endure rain for the echo of a beat,
As if nostalgia means you did not die.
Inside phone-booth loveless ladies cry
On Merseyside. Their faces show defeat.
An ancient jukebox blares out Ain’t She Sweet
In Liverpool, which cannot say goodbye.
Here everybody has an anecdote
Of how they met you, were the best of mates.
The seagulls circle round a ferry-boat
Out on the river, where it’s getting late.
Like litter on the water, people float
Outside the Cavern in the rain. And wait.
|Our whole class in front of abbey road studios|
|then running so i dont get hit by a car|