Mr Bob's Curiosity Shoppe.

I

"Just call me Bob", he said
Showing his big toothy-wide grin.
"No need to stand on ceremony, now, is there?"
And because I were only six,
And didn't know what he meant,
And because his twisted, knotted, brown hand
Were almost as big as me whole head
I just nodded,
Poppin' me gum.
But he were still older than me -﷓ an adult -
So I called him Mr.
Mr. Bob.

The big old brass bell
Twinkled,
And deposited its notes around the room.
Some fell behind the counter
Or hid on the shelves
And hung around
Just
A bit
Longer.

I used to go there after school
If I couldn't be bothered kickin' the ball around,
Or if Davey forgot the ball;
Or when it were raining
I'd hopscotch the mud-puddles in the lane,
Weave down the road,
To Mr. Bob's Curiosity Shoppe.

The sign in the window said:
EVERYTHING YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU'D WANT
but he also sold everythin' you'd ever really need,
Though I never understood,
Not then.
But I'd let the bell twinkle
Pretty much every night, all the same,
And go in an' examine
Mr. Bob's curiosities.

I remember the tiger rug
I remember the stuffed swan
And the brass bedwarmer.
I can still see the rows upon rows
Upon rows of little
Coloured
Bottles
Sittin' next to the patient Toby jugs on the shelves
- I swear one winked at me once -
Or under the counter.
No labels.
No prices.
No customers -
Eitherway, none that I ever saw.
I told him that once, an' he said;
"If I can have just one customer go away satisfied
Then this business is a worthwhile affair."

I never understood that, neither,
But it were warm in there when it were cold outside
So I stayed.

II

I got home late one night when it were dark.
Mum were throwin' pots an' pans at Dad.
Dad hid behind the kitchen table.

I ran upstairs an' cried myself to sleep.

When I got up the next day
Mum had gone to her cleaning job
And Dad had no work on again
So he sat in the armchair,
Faggin' away,
And readin' yesterday's newspaper.

On the way to school I passed the shop.
It were closed, but I backtracked
And tried the handle,
All the same.

It opened.

Wading through the ever present sea
Of stale smoke and spices,
Musk, mug and mildew
To the counter.

No one there, but a scrap of paper:
Dear William,
I am sorry I can't help you.
I can't sell you what they need.
Tell them to look for themselves.
Mr. Bob.

But I scanned the rows of bottles all the same.
What was I looking for?
- A stray label where there had been none before?
- Love?
- Emotion?
- Compassion?

III

I told Dad about Mr Bob's Curiosity Shoppe that night.
He just grunted he'd never heard of it
But I weren't surprised much.
He never left the armchair, nowadays.
You can't find what you don't want to look for, I guess.


IV

A year later, when I were seven
Mum left Dad
After he beat her.

She didn't say goodbye.

Dad and I drifted further apart,
As I grew up,
And he grew old.

I still saw Mr Bob a lot.

He gave me a bottle once ﷓ it had a label on it:
COURAGE
He said he'd given some to a lion once,
But I didn't really believe him.
The contents tasted bittersweet,
But he said it were natural.
I kept the bottle,
But I can't find it now.

V

When Dad died
Mr. Bob came to the funeral.
Aunt Elsie held the wake
But we slipped off early,
Back to the shop.

He gave me my second, and last, bottle,
A red one. With a label.
(I scanned the shelf. None of them had any labels.)

It read: TO MEND A BROKEN HEART.

It were salty, like tears,
With just a hint of strawberry.
Or mint.
Or lime cordial.

When I fell asleep,
Exhausted,
Mr. Bob carried me back to my aunt's house in his arms.

VI

I had to live with Aunt Elsie
And when she moved, I moved.
I never saw Mr. Bob again.

I went back there, last year
But couldn't find the shop.
No empty window.
No 'Closed Down' sign.
No door.
Or did I get the wrong street?
Time plays tricks with the tracks of your mind.

I just wanted to tell him.
Tell him that I'm older, wiser.
Tell him I have found someone of my own.
Tell him all the things I wanted to say,
All the thoughts that my littleboy mouth and mind
Couldn't form.

Tell him I would put the world on hold for this person.

Tell him that I know the truth now:

That the best way to mend a broken heart
Is never to break it in the first place.

I never did find Mr. Bob's Curiosity Shoppe,
But every night
I will visit him once again in my memories.

Just to remember.