I cried, and cried really - fitfully,

Frightened of the night to come 

And days to follow.

I cared not for friends 

And how they would comfort me, 

For I had thrown away a love.

A life once mapped in notion

Now lost to fantasy 

To regret 

To the shadows of another being 

For he and I no longer identified 

For good or bad, he was a different man 

And so it was my soul 

That bled asunder 

Wrent by my own wretched hands 

My tongue in fact 

My thoughts -

My future for a cigarette. 

Could it really have been that banal? 

A voice, in answer, on a phone some weeks later blamed me anyway.

© The Hairy Teacher, (revised 8/10/24), otthon

Just dropped in for a cuppa between jobs. Had intended to take the Metro 2 downtown but having passed this place recently, and hoping to resurrect my exploratory verve, I chose to go to the end of the line, Örs Vezér tere.

A front area that opens to the street on hotter days, I'm currently being baked alive by the heat, such is my desire for people watching. There is a back area with booths, cozy, no doubt, for those sessions with friends.

Today, and alone, I'm merely absorbing the early afternoon sunshine and chilled out vibe. A radio plays hits from a time, and people come and go.

In front of me there lies a menu. Full of burgers, a veggie option to boot, a few quesadilla options, and sides such as onion rings and chicken wings. Oh, and the mandatory melegszendvics in a few flavours, ropi and other typical bar snacks.

It seems to cater to all tastes, from snacker to meal seeker, dare I say drinker to dancer. 

The Facebook page says it has a young people's vibe but for now on a sunny Wednesday afternoon the average age is upwards of fifty, what with the old couple behind me and the border collie (dog years!!!) with its young owner farther down, and myself of course. 

For now it offers all that I require, a little peace and quiet, but I can imagine when up at Ikea next time, I might actually forego the swedish meatballs in favour of a burger here. I think the kids and Andi will agree. Let's see😁😋😁

https://www.facebook.com/zold.kancso/

© The Hairy Teacher, 2022.02.23

Last night
Or this morning a’round dawn
A thought
Wandered in on its own
Twas an idea
Of who you once were
The stories
Regaling us all
The devil
Residing in you
No different
To the ones in us too
And this morning
Or last night Or whenever
You returned
From that place of forever
And I lent
You an ear, or mind’s eye
Leaving
A vision of horror subside
Realising
Just how much I cared
Surprised
Yet not drawn to tears
Tony

missing you as he will
Honestly
I think of you still.

© The Hairy Teacher, 28th July, 2020

Pat, Auntie Pat

Both the plaintive moan and tell
tale tattler

to myself and Killian’s attempts to
flee for a fag by the wayside.

The spy in our midst, at once our
traitor and our watch dog bred.

No chance to escape his torment, we
suffered him in silence.

Or at least in muttered curses themselves by the wayside fled.

Pat, Auntie Pat

The, at once childish, though distinctly cunning, call to arms of all attention

His will to have us be undone and
yet not knowing, even then -

The true power of addiction, the
urge which must be answered.

We slipped his noose from time to
time but his nose thereafter sharper

Calling attention to our scent, "like old men in a pub" -

the crusty beard-stained-yellow troubadours of hapless pints and memory.

Pat, Auntie Pat

And so the buoyancy of teenage
prattle was exposed,

to blushes forth the information that
in secret had been cast.

Not to be trusted evermore

The boy to arms alone like many times before

A schoolyard had dared to bully but he bit back

And so he disappeared from out that
car and on into his only life

Till time and distance solidified
but a memory

Till one cruel Sunday morning and
his life cut short

Pat, Auntie Pat

The echo of a time forever more.

© The Hairy Teacher, (October 3, 2016), Revised April 13, 2020.