I found this poem about my dad while I was clearing out some old notes last week. As far as I can remember I decided not to do any more work on this because I thought the concept was a bit too sentimental, but I’ll allow myself the indulgence in the circumstances.
‘Remember that time at Universal Studios?’
“There I am, just walking about!”
So strange now that my dad’s mobility
Is confined to old VHS tapes
A relic of dead technology.
Forget about the new stuff, the chair
The hoist, the lift – nah!
If you want to get back up the stairs
You’ll find a black box there to do the trick.
Fast forward, rewind, up and down he goes:
Fuck starring in Star Trek, this is magic!