The Parking Ticket (meeting (very briefly) the poet Simon Armitage on New Year’s Day).

It wasn’t the most poetic of settings. Just a car park in the rain.

Stoked with New Year bonhomie I’d already  decided to pass my ticket on to somebody. I knew you straight away, from your eyes as your rain-streaked  windows slid past them. Mine were star struck.

You’ve given me words for years, and I’ve shared them with many eager faces, and some less keen. I’ve seen those words pondered by students and adorned with notes, blossoming in to tapestries of text.

You’ve been in my head for a long time, your poems granting me both solace and sadness. I’ve thought about them a great deal.

I gave you eleven spoken words today, and several more printed on the soggy ticket that I passed to you. I hope that my eyes said so much more.



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