Excuse

After you left the scene and went far away

Your parents’ voice stayed in the air intoned,

Your tip-off laugh, thesis verbs, your mocking groan;

Your type of music, left awhile, is replayed.

That walk of yours memory imitates.

That look of yours they fell for, as they will.

That choice of clothes making statements still.

Your future a guesswork no-one designates.

The streets turn old that you strutted until.

Excuses help keep up appearances.

Your numbers don’t ring from the “Once upon…”

Your black humour won’t help where you have gone

Removed from your private audiences,

Like a song of regret we hear again April.