Knowledge from Experience

I know angels in smart shoes,
just waiting to turn eighteen,
and to savour the taste of kisses in public.

I know kisses in the rain,
turned eighteen and slightly twisted,
and galvanised the pieces of my heart.

I know mathematics and kudos,
interesting and flavoursome fortunes,
and in the distance I hear a biscuit snap.

I know the crisp cold of snow,
diving inside the icy burrow,
and shaving the hair from my toes.

I know the innocent pleasure of eating,
and of riding a bicycle to work,
and of sharing a sandwich in the park.

I know the bitter twist of anger,
orange juice bottled and cap not fitting,
and the spray of emancipated droplets.

I know the silence of loneliness,
justified by the happiness
already grown up and flown.