Black and been here since 1949
West London jaw grind, 'Take it e-asy'
We saw him
You saw him
Walking along the canal last night
And what a joy to buck up upon him
At the carnival today
To hear him speak about
The dances and the bands
At the Paramount
The spots you couldn't mix
With white in, or dance in
Remembering ... London.
How he been slapped so hard
With the lash
Sam Selvon say
And it take him 60 years
Before he could call England
'Home'
He musta come here in black and white, 1959
Time longer than twine
So long ago he don't
Remember being a child,
Just a suit and steamer trunk
Upon a ship which took
A good six weeks to cross.
We sat at his kitchen table
And I filmed him on the fly
But he wasn't saying much -
At least nothing I could put in a poem.
Instead he showed me
Photographs - with the dashiki and the fez,
With Michael X at the Ambience.
Outside the night came in
And he had moved so far away
From calling England
'Home '
I've lived here longer than home, since 1989.
Remember Harlesden in the spring time.
I used to walk from Cricklewood
To Marylebone High Street
To cut up meat to punch out dough.
I was never asked to wait tables
Or to serve scones and coffee.
I worked in the basement
But I learned to tie my apron
In a way that retained some dignity
And in my first summer above the corner shop
I listened to rare groove on pirate radio.
I was flung so far from any notion of nation
How long do you have to live in a place
Before you can call it
'Home'?