Wednesday, 5 July 2017

Hey buddy! Hey! You! buddy! I'm talking to you, buddy!

Here are a couple of little things. I wrote them. They're here. They don't set the world on fire, but why not, after all.

An Englishman first called me “buddy” in 1996
When I worked in a hotel, taking lazy men their drinks.
This portly gormless fellow was clearly set on congress -
Through largesse, he’d impress his doleful would-be conquest.
I brought them food a-plenty, a bottle or three of wine.
“Thanks, buddy” he said awkwardly, and put his hand in mine,
Cool as clammy cucumber, sweetening my pot
With cash to burn, he hoped she’d yearn for someone he was not.
Now marked as his accomplice, my gratitude was key,
Glancing down with good will at the cut he offered me.
His paramour (as yet unsure of her potential beau)
Looked grimly at my thin smile, already in the know.
My palm could hardly hide the harm of this incongruous sum
He spoke like an American but he did not tip like one.


The world is full
Of gaffes we’ve made
Which mattered not
Thank god

The world is full
Of half-baked puns
That crashed and burned
Or not

The world is full
Of money paid
On sunny days
For lemonade

The world is full
Of swallowed thoughts
And bitten tongues
Unwritten dreams
And hollow hopes

The world is full
Of immigrant
To idiots

The world is full
Of money made
By cunning blades
From lemonade
On sunny days

The world is run
By American golfers
Shooting the breeze
Appreciating your time
Having mercy
Thanking the lord
Playing it straight
Respecting the rules
Part of the club
Selecting their club
Of choice.

No comments:

Post a Comment