Movie stars

It must’ve been twenty-five years since
I saw her last – longer since we spoke.
We’d cleared our plates of buffet-table
small talk when suddenly she offered,

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‘Everyone on the estate thought
your mum and dad were so glamorous.’
Years reversed at her words, exposing
you both in our council house garden:

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stripped for the sun, basted in tan oil;
magazines and massive sunglasses.
Smothering, sun-burned, coconut air.
Those vicious, foldaway sun loungers.

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You were movie stars to our neighbours.
The arrogant couple. The ‘posh sods’.
Acting as though you believed your own
hype, till your bad press hounded us all.