1. The dry panini
Oh no – anything, God but this; this
crumbed tongue of hideousness whipped
from iron pants; fatty brains
oozing prematurely from its mashed skull.
I thought we had made it.
I thought we knew about lunch.
Now we’re talking, but your eyes seek the inner
cheese I can’t hide as my tongue flaps arid
crumbs; feigning homogeny of purpose while a glob
of truth plops like a seagull crap in your latte glass.
2. Night in the know
in a dark gridlock;
clasped fingers squeezing
dead-end doors where buff barmen toss
‘wet kisses’; smirks on ice; tankards of edible flowers
soused in lime…
You chucked in a dumpling restaurant’s wheelie bin.
3. Into Sedonia
Our neighbour flapped; a flippered beauty queen just crowned, ‘Did you
hear? They’re opening a sourdough bakery! How much better
can Seddon get?’ I didn’t know. I was a disingenuous prat without a lifestyle.
She looked around, ‘I couldn’t afford to buy here now!’
by direction, we passed that quirky hovel of right-on retro; selling
cotton toys, organic jewellery, rusty bikes, ironic
lamps; plaster cockatoos on wood from the dump; priced: exotic, stilts from
Campbell’s tomato soup cans. Pock-marked signs of rail routes west…
‘I love this shop! I’ll just have a quick look!’ She said.
I stuffed my muffin from the wrong oven and followed her in
to button-eyes and 50s patterns, just right tops and skirts that said I am, I am, I am, I
picked a ring from the jarring cabinet; should have been smashed glass from heists
stuck up with glue from grandma’s kit… But that wouldn’t stand.
It was nice. How much? Your money and your life…
‘I love those cockatoos,’ she said. It was too much; my head went spare.
‘Oh! Why don’t you buy one, then? It would look great upon a dresser.’
Something wasn’t right; the walls
took a look and hid their eyes. Better dash before the milk goes sour on my step…
Too late. Too late, the crocheted maiden cried.
Us vs City (a tragedy in three parts)
1 June 2014