In an instant his eyes flicked from left to right
And back again
As he remembered the last time he'd seen Nicole.
It was in 1969.
They'd met two years earlier
At a friend's party,
A chance gathering of two paths
Each leading to a different star.
He of the patchwork jeans,
The faraway eyes, and no ambition
And she with the short blonde hair,
The movie star looks, but no movie.
Nicole's life was one of
Suave men, fast cars,
And cocktails at the golf club,
Everything that was repugnant to him.
His style was more low-key.
He possessed little, envied no-one,
Yet he harboured
A latent need to call the shots.
There was no chance
Of a relationship
Even a dalliance
In the back of his Transit
But over the next two years
He watched her,
From a distance,
By May 1969
The lovely Nicole
Lay broken in her grave.
Her body destroyed by the flames
Of a house fire,
The violation unnoticed.
Only he knew the real story.
His Nicole, his nothing.
The first of his four guilty secrets.