NEW POEM BY BRUCE HODDER

then (memories of hendrix and mcqueen)

this old guy, he was a hippie.
he'd been around, but settled
for a time in london, early seventies.
he resembles a kind of fragile bird.
he says, over coffee yesterday,
listening to one of my cds:
"that's jimi hendrix. he was
a decent bloke. i used to sell
belts to him off my market stall.
the day he died, we'd said
we'd meet up for a pint.
that was how it was back then"


another guy had been a journalist.
his thing was bikes in those days.
i am 41, i've known him since
childhood, and he drops this in
an email: " in the sixties i met
steve mcqueen. i had two beers
with him in a kettering pub.
he only talked about motorcycles.
pumping me with questions all
the while. and he asked me for
my autograph. i was so
embarrassed i had to ask
for his.
my wife lost it
sometime in the seventies.
i wish i had it now.”