Quiet Nights on St. Tristan’s – Cold Creek Park



 

Cold Creek Park

 

iv

 

she moved to New York
from somewhere in England
Scotland
you think

you’d met her in school
when she was just a kid
her friends
said she had a crush on you

she used to hang out
in South Beach
with the gang

in the winter
you’d all
huddle together
outside and shiver
in the cold

but you’d stay
all night
drinking
and talk


Cold Creek Park
is about five or six
blocks upstreet
from St. Tristan’s

it’s an old reservoir
you all used to skinny dip
in summer
at night

yeah
a reservoir
but
then
you rarely drank water
so it didn’t matter

you went up
to spend the afternoon
it was a nice day
the ground busting with Spring
mud clinging to your boots

you’d bought a pint
of Richard’s Wild Irish
in its flat bottle
it looked
just like whiskey

or maybe
it was
that Swiss-Up
that messed
your mind up
so numb

you drank
to take the chill off
in the winter
fighting the cold winds
of youthful
folly

you drank at night
because it was cold
you drank during the day
because you were bored

beer in the summer
because it was hot
you always
drank

anyway—
as you walked
the gravelled path
around the lake
you saw her

you called
her name

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