Sometime in 1980 they sat at a Railway Club table one Saturday night, oblivious to a loud band playing on the stage. As I watched the pair of them, the music faded for me, too. She had this nose and the gaze - piercing for a long time, then remote almost diffused.
I had seen him a few years earlier at the Italian Cultural Centre. Gerry Gilbert had read his poetry after Allen Ginsberg's rather tedious singing and melodeon playing, and had revived all present. I spotted Gerry often, riding his Chinese bicycle downtown, and caught glimpses of Tamsin as she worked in a shopping mall restaurant.
Railway Club