He Be Me - Jamie McKendrick
When I arranged a meeting with my self
predictably he – as I’ll call him – turned up late.
I had perched an hour on the barstool and drained
three glasses of red when he wafted in,
looking like me only longer-haired, years younger,
with an insouciant air and the feeblest excuse.
The barmaid I’d flirted with to no avail
as the clock dust gathered was suddenly all smiles.
I offered him a drink as it was clear
he had no money, no job, no staying power
– none of which I myself had that much of
but at least I’d arrived on time, time being
what I had less of, which made his lateness
even worse. I could tell he didn’t know
what he wanted – to drink, to have, to be.
A vaguely startled look patrolled his eyes
as if his confidence was just a bluff.
I could have told him that what lay ahead
would test a sturdier nerve than his
but why waste words – he’d find out soon enough.
All the fool seemed utterly sure of
was never in his life would he be me.
Jamie McKendrick’s Selected Poems was published in 2016. His most recent pamphlet is The Years, 2020
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