Saturday, February 4, 2012

“Old Fart” © Mike Absalom
January 21st 2012

I went outside and away from
the warmth of the turf fire.
Between the thunder and the
there was a cold west wind I
hadn’t noticed this morning.
I saw dead white snakes
crawling over the earth
like bones from a desecrated
I knew almost at once that
they were only the unmarked corpses
of last summer’s nasturtiums.
But it took me a moment!
I am slow catching up since
you left.

I still see bright green
nasturtium leaves
clapping along to the July
and a thousand cabbagey
on their ravingnous commute to
a better class of gastronomy.
The golden red flowers still
whisper –‘eat me!’
‘Eat me before it is too
However this is just a
retinal hiccup.
The dry white wreaths look
nasty now, and full of venom.
I do not know if I want to
catch up.

A crow in a grey tuxedo said:
-‘All your little dolly birds
are over sixty now!
They seek you out because
they remember your behaviour
when you were young and
beautiful and cruel,
for you were a mirror then to
their immaculate pre-marital perfection,
and of course they wanted to
exercise its removal
in your hairy hippy arms.
‘In those days you wouldn’t
be suppressed.
You were free as a fart! I
know you still refuse to be suppressed,
but the motor bike changes
You are still free as a fart
but now you are an old fart!’

I thought: -‘Are grey backed
crows wise birds,
or, like doves, just the
latest agricultural vermin?’
As with all the belief
systems into which I have been baptised,
I can never remember the
politically correct sutra.
But I do miss the dolly
We were the Baby Boomers then,
and we were the majority!
We had the votes! We could do
what we liked!
We are still the majority
now! Never mind the polling booth!
On a pension you can still do
anything you like!
If you can do anything at all.

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