There was a bear…
Was it a bear
or a dog
sitting on the shelf,
a bear or a dog.
I should remember
because I bought it
that Christmas
after you’d said you liked it
in the window of the shop
in the seaside town
you drove us to
to see the film about the Irish band,
but the cinema was shut
wasn’t it?
I should remember,
I should,
but thirty years
no longer seems just like yesterday.
But I remember the songs by James
the soundtrack
to those brief years,
and the bear or the dog
and you at my door
with the spaniel,
the sofa bed
the wine
the stolen bottle of tequila
my fingernails painted black
by you
while I slept away
another hangover
before work.
But mostly it was okay
because youth
laughter
drunken nights
when things were better than ever
close to the end.
And the bear and the dog…
they’re still there,
somewhere.
Garry Crystal writes and lives in Scotland. His short stories and articles have appeared in print and online including The Adirondack Review, Turnrow Journal, Roadside Fiction and Expats Post.
His novel, Leaving London, his collection of short stories, All of Us With Our Pointless Worries and Inconsequential Dramas, are available now, as well as his latest novella, Red Lights.