Saturday, 24 November 2012

Another Springfield Fugitive

Another Springfield Fugitive

I was sitting in Pret,
one wet and windy day,
in Fulham Broadway.
I was drinking tea
when he came towards me
I'm free, I heard him bellow
this crazed anonymous fellow-
I was discharged
from Springfield
no longer will I wield
to the guardsmen,
in that battlefield
I thought- how strange
was he really rendered free,
or was he just another 
Springfield escapee?
and how strange to cross paths
with another bummer,
another outlaw, another outpatient-
another runner.

Springfield, I asked him,
in Tooting?
I was routing
for him
for some reason
I was routing
for this coffee shop bogeyman
I was sectioned, came his reply.
But why?
My time came,
I was set free-
Three chances,
I need to get back
to Catford...
I took some coins
from my pocket
and handed them to him
and he left-
bereft, and grateful

But by giving him 70p
would I help him to see
the light?
Or would he just scare
the living day-lights
out of ordinary people,
people like you and I
and everyone we know?

mad one.
Run away from here,
but don't scare

Hmm but maybe,
I should have asked him-
What's in Catford son-
That made you want to run
away? -don't lie.
And why
am I
tasked with you're escape?
Break free-
return, by turning
back now.
But how?

I remembered when
he had killed a man,
another Springfield escapee
who had been 'set free'-
By a herd of deer
in Richmond Park.
I wondered then,
who lent him the money
to get there-
life is funny
but in a sad way.
we learn
from our mistakes.
-these silent aches,
may they not break

Once a friend
on the mend
went into Springfield
she escaped too
they brought her back,
 in a police car
-scars were visible
she wanted to take her bones for a run
She did what she thought had to be done!
Without a penny to her name- she escaped,
and traipsed around Tooting Town.

What a strange world!

I know another who went in,
and did not come out the same
she did not remain herself,
she became someone else
a shell of her former self,
She became,
someone I didn't know
or recognise. 

So many have walked
through the gates of Springfield-
names I cannot name
for they must remain
But I swear,
they were there-
they were all there
and they all come out altered
-and they faltered perhaps
those women and men
in lab-coats
I mean, 
who knows what they did to them, 
help, brand or render them

Out-patients of this world, 
outlast them-
you can love.