You strip away the trimmings and then trim off all the fat and at fifty years of age when you think you look ‘all that’ you’re off to buy that sports car and the wig to hide your bald patch,
catch the drift?
tuck your stomach in, get botox or a face lift, you’re looking saggy but you’ll get there and the girl you winked at works there.
I wanted to write lots more but he shot me full of secrecy for secreting what is his story in the backyard of a pharmacy so I swallowed down some linctus from a bottle marked as dangerous,
(I do stupid things like that)
Twenty four miles further down the range,
rocket boosters aren’t they strange?
but not as strange as that man in the sports car who
took the botox thing a little too far.
I disengage from time to time to feel the words in what the rhyme is and have never had the balls to have a bald patch,
© 2016, John Smallshaw.