iBag
i was getting an eggy sarnie and an
apple from m&s for me lunch
queing at the checkout behind
an old doris with her
biscuit odour and heavy over
coat even though it wasn’t cold
there was me in a little
cotton summer dress
she had oven ready meals
tins of soup and tuna on the conveyor belt
and asked the checkout girl for
a bag for life
i thought what’s the point of that
she looked eighty
if a day
the old biddy noticed my lunch
smiled at me insisting i should buy
a beef stew with dumplings apparently
they’re very good
i told her i was a veggie
but you’re so skinny my dear she said
yeah ok thanks for the confidence boost
i considered putting that bag for life over
her head
a bag for the life of an old bag
but then
revenge is a dish best served without
jacob’s cream crackers
you young things are so thin
and showing all that flesh
weren’t like that in my day
well i’m getting by thank you very much
getting my boy five-a-day portions i lied
wanting to shock by being all sluttish
but with a sweet old lady
false teeth smile she said
good for you girl
if i could have my time again i’d be
a right dirty cow
being good’s dead boring then before
you know it a decent shag will bust
yer hip and what with the n-h-s waiting
list i tell yer girl
you go for it
© 2012 iDrew
first published by Twenty Something Press 2012
Hang-ups
Still the same old hang-ups:
storm-proof body warmer
extra thick gloves,
snagged wooly scarf
coming undone
with all manner of insecurities
straggling on the coat rack
in the corner of the room
where I’ve hung my shadow
for treason, drawn and quartered
without reason. Now he hangs
about in all four corners
dispiritedly dissolving into melancholia,
conducting a cat gut psychopathic string quartet
in tune with wind warped radio crooners;
(twisting, yeah twisting, twisting the night away,
yeah we’re twisting …)
and so I’m left to my own time bomb devices
daredevil open the throttle straight into sunlight.
Trust me to have a super ego hero
no good at flying
so when the chords crash
and the tension music unexplainably
misses a beat
if I scream, who will come to rescue me?
Still the same old screw-ups:
a wall of smiling photographs
once exposed from negatives.
An invisibly supported shelf
for my self-help support paperbacks.
A mirror in the bathroom
please don’t freak - sing the song
in the morning as you brush your teeth.
Happy tunes before I see I,
and my shadow always lurking
not far behind.
© 2006 P.A.Levy
first published by Poetry Warrior 2009
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