Driving home through
the shoals of
long-legged foals took
me back to
less puritanical
times, to
Liverpool in the 70’s
when
“schoolies” were fair
game, with their
skirts rolled up,
their
satchels and sarcasm,
their
white socks and dark
hearts, so
ready to be led astray
they
often gave you a
roadmap,
driving you on with
their
slender legs around
your waist, their
school-shod heels
urging more,
deeper, faster,
longer, in the
language of Chaucer
with a
Scouse accent.
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