Pome: Ace And The Gang

And all the rest of the tribes

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Simply ACE. Pic: Gaynor Jackson

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Ace And The Gang

he drank in The Farmer’s, Poynton,

and a few pints in would get onto his fave subject that was him as cleric, in liturgical mode

and it ran this:

‘i have lived 400 million years

i have lived 400 million lives’

and he believed this and he didn’t

and he repeated this to the bar staff

and wheeled it out to the regulars

and dusted it off for any newcomer:

‘i have lived 400 million years

i have lived 400 million lives’

and he sat with his back to the sun

as it streamed through the windows and he would hurl other bouquets of homespun wisdom like:

‘don’t love your nation

love your planet’

and the sun would run a low parabola as the day got engulfed in the dusk

all those rays in the glass and he’d say:

‘where they go -

those rays?’

and like all his posers this was rhetorical and to fish for an answer/reaction cos he adored seeing the drinker have to engage.

then, when nothing came back, he pointed outside and demanded ‘quiet’ and say:

‘listen to the birds

the sound of

summer’

and:

‘habits are forming -

you ever think about

it this way?’

then one day halfdrunk, halfsober, take your pick, he told us he would never be in again. and left the fancy with this apophthegm:::

‘i once arrived at the juncture where i lay on a

beach in the sun every day and now here i

am. mucho amor. adios.’

but the next day he was back. the same smile, the same cocktail of laughs/dudgeon at the world and himself. telling us:::

‘nothing is fangled.’

for

this

is

what

afflicts

most

folk

he insisted: