Nomads

These words are on strings
you pull me they sing and
things cannot be the same

Push in a button and I
rap out my name.

Slow at times
as if the grapes on the vines
are unripe

but the wine tastes the same.

I rinse off the tinsel and
the fairy queen smiles

and this is the time of my life?
so she says,

Maybe she was having a baby
or had eaten too much,

I never touched on the subject
for fear
she’d reject me.

It’s hard being a woman and
it’s hard being a man

if that was the plan it was shit

I do and she does her bit
and we get by
moving
seeing
eye to eye
it’s the only way

so she says
and I do too.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.