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Paul McLoughlin

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Whistling

There’s a man down at the Treaty Centre,
whistling, one foot a way in front of
the other and he’s rocking to and fro,
whistling, his long, white-tipped stick
stretching into a deep and lidless
tub where coins are rising.

Lately, we’ve been spoilt –
Peruvian pipes; a jack-in-the-box
of a singer of jaunty songs, who skips
round little children, makes them laugh;
a crooning pensioner with karaoke
stack and speakers; an accordionist
who squeezes out a wash of sound.

But today none of these regulars,
just the whistler with the precinct
to himself. He takes a break, enjoys
a laughing conversation with a
punter or a passer-by. And still he rocks,
forward and back, forward and back.

But whistling? The tunnel of shops
behind him’s filling up with fellow
whistlers joining in with old familiars:
Bright Eyes, Somewhere Over the Rainbow,
and Alone Again, Naturally. He isn’t
the greatest whistler, the high notes
clipped, as if they might be missed,
but we’ll get used to him, come to
accept that we’ve been entertained.

Paul McLoughlin was born in London of Irish parents. He teaches part-time in a comprehensive school and at university and plays jazz saxophone and fl ute. What Certainty Is Like (Smith/Doorstop) was published in 1998, and What Moves Moves (Shoestring Press) in 2004. A new collection is forthcoming from Shoestring.

Page(s) 51

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