Protracted, Dreamlike, Hermetic, Peculiar, Helpless
It may have been a Tuesday - the bus was late again
I wasn't feeling choosy: I said 'Let's not complain,
The atmosphere was boozy - much better than the train
But then ... I glimpsed Denise!
She sat under the shelter as though upon a throne
And I began to swelter from bathing-cap to bone
I breathed deep as I smelt her indescribable cologne
A balm upon the breeze!
I did not dare approach her - my clothes were vile and rank
Since, posing as a poacher, I'd chosen socks that stank
If only I could coach her, I'd take her to the bank
To cull the cashier's keys!
I slithered up beside her like a spider to a fly
That's fallen in the cider on the 14th of July
I watched as she applied a little liner to her eye
A temptress loves to tease
I thought I'd try to court her - my hopes began to rise
But I'd drunk ten pints of porter (which was certainly unwise)
It seemed to me her daughter had far more seemly thighs
And was much more like to please
A wave of warm saliva came cascading down my chin
Like when I sat my viva after fourteen pints of gin
I felt like Lord Godiva in my incandescent skin
I forced myself to wheeze
Come over to my table, and sit on my right hand
And if I still am able, I'll show you what I've planned
Before we bolt the stable, the horse must understand
The prize we're going to sieze
You see I like a flutter -- I've got a gambler's nose
And if you've brought the butter, I'll show you where it goes
I'll gladly sluice your gutter with this handy garden hose
And water all your peas
"No sir, I do not garden", she said with steely eye
I felt my old heart harden; I let the chance go by
I simply begged her pardon, and drank my tumbler dry
And fell upon my knees
Her boot was on my shoulder! Her hands were round my neck!
I felt myself grow bolder; I chanced a little peck
The eye of my beholder beheld a grov'lling wreck
Of parasites and fleas!
"You home for abject vermin! You weasel, Sir! You stoat!"
"You'd best go down to Jermyn Street and get another coat!"
You might look good in ermine, though the chances are remote
As lawyers waiving fees
Such cruel vituperation quite battered at my soul
I knew my peroration could not fill that gaping hole
So, as the situation slipped quite out of my control
I found,at last, true ease
'Twas on the Wednesday morning I woke all cold and stiff
With slime and ooze adorning my newly razored quiff
And, as I lay there yawning, I asked myself, "What if ...
I hadn't had that cheese
But opted for Potato, that philosophic fruit
Which sat upon my plate, overshadowed by the lute
That once belonged to Plato, that blithering bandicoot
Or was it Socrates?
No matter; I had chosen, and chosen quite amiss
I donned my lederhosen and set out in search of bliss
My limbs were fraught and frozen, like a penguin's chrysalis
I needed my chemise
My lute required re-stringing, retuning too; and yet
My heart just kept on singing, as if I'd really met
Although mine eyes were stinging with rheum, or with regret
The heart so seldom sees!
Contributors: | TG, Roland, P, Loaf, Bop. |
Poem finished: | 21st June 1998. |