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Playing Away, 1967

Christopher T. George

Sunday, January 9th, 2005

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 An away match down south–follow the team everywhere.
Sleep in your scarf the night before so they’ll win.
We lose anyway. The train journey back at night.
Boozy men stagger down moving corridors. Engaged:
I wait for the toilet door to pull tongues at me.
Please don’t flush while train is in a station.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 A restless doze. Too cold. The train rattles
through black country populated only by the moon,
and moonlight glistens on steel lines like endless tears.
Lime Street Station. A sleepy taxi driver at the rank.
“Good match was it?” Even the Sink Club is closed.
Four a.m. Sky lightens. Birds sing. Sneak upstairs.

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 Christopher T. George

© Christopher T. George 2005

Notes

This is another poem adapted from my 1976 chapbook, “Toxteth,” a long autobiographical poem about my early days in Liverpool.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/playing-away-1967/