(20 minute poetry)
You were never really a touchy freely kindhearted diet lite sort of person were you?
A man who digested fat like it was fashion and that was the limit, the outer ridge was the fridge which you raided at midnight, getting tight on you, down out of sight and you
believed it was alright, but being alone is a minus it’s time the two of us got together.
We have so much to learn,
if I burn with desire I want it to be you stoking the fire with a smile on your face.
A place and a time?
over at mine at around about
It’s midnight over on the other side,
the beggar slides down the underground like a bloodhound in search of its prey
whoever said begging doesn’t pay is in denial.
I keep my head down, eyes on the screen, but the beggar man has seen this type of behaviour before.
At the last stop which is my stop and the beggar stops his accusing,
I’m using true lies to avoid looking at his eyes,
But he knows
© 2015, John Smallshaw.