Charlotta – with an A
An electric echo of a vowel
Savoury and soft like bread dough
Rising beneath checkered tea towels
Her voice warped, her face blurred
Brown eyes, brown skin, brown hair
Or did she have green eyes?
Age eclipsed the memory
Zephyr carrying her scent
From the distant side of the classroom
The girl with the oxytocin perfume
Residing in higher echelons
I trap my index
In the stapler
The little goalposts
Won’t stand up straight
If she wrote a snog, I mean a song
I mean a piece…of her
I would write the libretto
Stilettos bringing her up to my eyes
I’m in a good place
Ylem near Big Bang
Sprinting down the escalator
Double decker top front row
We grab a coffee
The machines are broken
Sitting on blue velvet chairs
I finger the studs
And I disinvent the desire
When I catch her trilling hum
Her telling strum
At the sight of her man