Hunch declared her hand
today, she stared me in the
eyes exclaiming “Puck!” with
brows all raised expectantly.
I didn’t understand and shook
my head. You need a better
vocabulary I said, explained
perhaps a “cut!” or two,
a “grort!” is good and “tuc!”
just seemed to go a ways to making
better conversation. “Crap,” she said –
as clearly uttered object of contempt
as I had ever heard. It struck me hard,
she’d cut me dead. “Pok,” she then
complained and duly launched a glottal
raft of “arcs...” defined as tut, tut, tuts!
I got the message loud and clear,
‘don’t pander me.’ I note she stands
alone these days, parades the open
spaces like a queen whose place
commands the entrance gate.
I see she has no-one to fear –
including me, and wonder what
and when my fate.
© 7 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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