crossing abbey road
at forty years old
it’s a beautiful day
only there’s this guy at the famed crosswalk
he’s got a tweed blazer on
and he’s wearing his abbey road t-shirt
like that guy who wears the band t-shirt
to the same band’s concert
his wife looks pissed
because he keeps directing her on how to cross the street
how wide her gate should be
how far apart her arms should swing
like mccartney, like lennon
do it like them, he’s shouting across the street
there are a number of people waiting to do the same thing
rainbows of flesh and blood from all over the world
trying to get to that other, magical mystery side
the cars are patient enough
i mean no one honks at the horde like they would in america
my wife and i are waiting at abbey road
to get to the other side to look at the graffiti
scrawled on the walls of the studio
we don’t need the photo op
we crossed abbey road five years ago
and it wasn’t the enlightened experience everyone claims it
to be
i’ve had much more in the way of visionary moments
just crossing the street to buy a six pack of beer
but it would be nice to pause and stop for a picture
just to ruin tweed blazer’s fashion spread
have a laugh when he makes his old lady cross the street yet
again
but she’s given up anyway
she’s sitting on a bench by the bus stop having a smoke
while other people are checking their cameras
to see if they got it all right
tweed blazer keeps screaming at her to give it another go
like george harrison, he says like ringo
she tells him to go to hell then checks her phone
so he takes a picture of the famed pavement instead
and when my wife and i cross abbey road
she sneaks a picture of me
making musical history with a dozen others
my tired eyes and drunkard’s slouch
snapped for posterity
that fab, fat forty year old belly and all
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