He parks empty liquor bottles and his back
on a period chair
made for those who are pregnant,
falling short of the high standards of plastic chairs.
You could never have shoplifted from your old enemy;
who is skilled in long intervals between smackings.
You don't enjoy paying income tax.
When you went out leaving the phone off,
they took and used your voice.
Now you are stuck with a teenage werewolf
who has an enlarged gland and sings.
The dogs could have made love there
but for the dangled angler -
Eh! He dies rich!
In York, you shield yourself
before going through with the witch's cat -
several days without bras
or later just my love.
© Gerald England
Composed: Gee Cross, 29th September 1992
1998 Boggers All (UK)
Flowers at Fleetwood
3 weeks ago