But your career as a groundbreaking poet fails to get any
further than line six of your latest innovation.
The Things We Saw
A house of cards, an
ancient apple tree,
A place where you could
hang your hat.
A hive of wasps, the
colour of the sea,
The picture of a
stalking cat.
The sound of getting
home in time for tea.
*
The National Express coach exhorts you to Love What’s Inside, but you are not sure
that you are capable of loving power sockets, toilets, and loads of leg-room.
*
An hour of conversation with your oldest friend passes
before either of you notice that all you have been saying to each other is band
names from the 1980s. You feel that you have to draw the line at Haysi Fantayzee. “Echo and the Bunnymen?”
you suggest by way of compromise, but he replies with “Heaven 17,” much to your
dismay.
*
If you were a cat (but you’re not).
*
Recently deceased ex-smoker (“finally found a way to quit!”) seeks.
*
Your signature dish is Fried Mars. How hilarious is that?
*
You raise your eyebrows in mild consternation as she raves
about her latest hobby: raving about her latest hobby.
*
There is no happiness to be had after all.
*
But your career as a poet is cruelly cut short by lack of
talent.
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