When there was space to dance

I remember  when you were
young, raw  and clear
flinging your body across the stage
wet with sweat, hair
clinging you were
so near I could
see into your eyes -
you used  to fall over
so many  times they put down
rubber mats to try and
stop you  slip - do you remember that?

and the nodding smile of the blonde one
with his shock of hair; and the quiet smile
of the dark one standing quietly there (the
fourth was different then) University Union
days long gone.

I felt your fire, I loved you all
seen so many  times at Tiffany's,
Strathclyde, at the front or on
the balcony, felt so close still
saw your  eyes ...

Tonight 1 felt those days dissolve
through  the TV glass to see you
sculpted in 3D distanced and eerie -
you hold  a part of me and you
don't even know.

I gave up when  we numbered  in
our thousands  and I
couldn't get in - so I
watch  you now, when you're on,
from  the distance of my home:

your face closed and clouded, body-moves
polished, even, no
falling over now, no, a cool
professional you keep yourself to
target, don't let much in, your
self-defence against fame.

Your  nearness fades when you are
fed through the airwaves and I
wonder  where  you are tonight
Rattle and Hum  in black and white
11.50  pm BBC1.

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