remembering the Kissing Gate

along the Birks of Aberfeldy
a small town in Perthshire
how green was my Valley
in the Summer of 1971
 fishing in the loch
with waders on, and an
oil cloth forest green
jacket, that felt permanently
wet, must have looked
most attractive..
maybe I was thirteen years old..
There was a dude standing
in the kissing gate..
it's called a kissing gate
because if there's two
passing it's really close
well this boy stood there
waiting as if he was
owed a kiss..off a a fisher girl
I had my rod in my hand
and my tackle in my bag
"This is a kissing gate" he said
( he wasn't  from around here,
his accent wasnt Scotish)
Even for my young years
I could spot a tofty dude
With his designer shoes
and his plaid jacket
" this is a fishing rod" I said
" and I will use it to smack you one"
the hound didn't ravish the fox
I wonder..who he was  ?
this young flirty squire..bless him
could have been Prince Andrew ?
doesn't matter..I'd still deck him