I kissed you behind the screen so many years ago. I felt a buzz – there on my childish lips.
Afterwards, I traced your face with my hand. “Oooh yeah”! You sing, curling your lips around your white, straight teeth. Your eyes (were they blue or green?) look down, then flick up. Waistcoat and white satin, streamers and guitars. Dark hair feathered around your head, a cross at your throat. Sun-kissed arms and hands hold the microphone like a lover. Girls reach out to touch, to take, to hold you. 1975 and Summer love.
I’m a little child-woman, sturdy in shorts and a t-shirt with a hot air balloon. Playing records and running under and out of the sprinkler. 1976. No drought back then, though the city shimmered and burned under the sun. Radio said that Lillee bowled them out – Howzat.
1977. We drive to be part of a sea of people in a park. Scents of frangipani and hot chips with sauce. Denim and broderie anglaise. Coke is it and 2SM. Twilight comes and the music swells. Your face is on the big screen. Your voice is in my ears and in my heart.