Here's a rewrite of this difficult poem. Any help much appreciated. Thanks in advance.
Man in the Park
My two short-trousered pals ran when
the young man called out to us,
more experienced than I was (afraid
of fireworks, the sea). He stood
head bent by the rusty fence,
ginger brylcreemed hair, stink of
cologne, flashy tie. With
a low voice, he coaxed me
to touch -- "like milking a cow."
Somehow, my parents knew --
I lay across my bed, felt
the sting of Daddy's belt.
I'd thought evil was ugly trolls
under bridges not guys with
gaudy ties, stinky cologne;
I later heard that blokes preyed
on children in parks, in local
alleys. I'd been warned about
div>
strangers but no one told me
what they'd do to me. The copper said,
"Tell me in your own words--"
A boy should tell the truth,
not go to the park. Rusty railings,
poplars where I hunted caterpillars.
Christopher T. George
Original version--
The Monster. . . the Mystery
I want to bury the memory, walk
out on the movie of my life,
leave the cinema for ever.
The young man in the Liverpool park:
ginger Brylcreemed hair, stink
of cologne, noisy silk tie.
My short-trousered friends ran away
but I lingered. He spoke to me.
What happened next?
Somehow my parents knew about it --
bad little boy! The police station,
the sting of Daddy's leather belt.
Evil was ugly trolls under bridges
not guys with bright ties, bad cologne.
Later, I would know that men approached
little girls and boys in parks,
in local alleyways. The constable said,
"Christopher, tell me in your own words--"
Children should always tell the truth,
shouldn't go to the park. Rusted railings,
trees where I hunted for caterpillars.
What happened? I still want to know about
the man -- but don't want to know more
about The Monster. . . the Mystery.
Bookmarks