Bi Polar Cult of Crouch End Hide-Aways


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B looked in, came in, joined the look out

Back in the day when I felt far away from myself and everyone around me
I’d sit looking out from Crouch End Hideaways
Consumed by sardonic commentaries, cynical world views,
On couples holding hands, papoose bound children, infamous Crouch End Mothers
Who never heard the news nor felt the bile beneath my well defined hatred.

I’d known relief in hideaways before in childhood
A low slung branch of the hawthorn tree on the perimeter of the playground
A hollow in the sand stone on the very edge of the common
Beneath a fence, this side of arable land
Places to watch and mark and name and fumigate, snarkly at the enemy

But today is close to the outbreak of summer and there are new vistas
It doesn’t hurt so much to sit and stare and spot the names I’ve learned today
A friendly face, a rotund body, a tress of hair, a gait, a walk
You and they and anyone can sit with me here in my Crouch End hideaway
I won’t be stopping long. I have a life to lead.

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