The line that sprang to mind was almost
ancient, something from the Kinks, “...he
thinks he is a flower to be looked at...”
– I guess I must be patient he surmised, it
is a misconception to be dealt with, the
kind of dated thinking one survives in vapid
times, and by being clear, uncompromised
in my rejection, escape the Czars of agony.
I am no slave to fashions trends, of anarchy
perhaps, a lawless blade, a meter maid in
fancy dress, but flower for picking I reject.
His mirror twin reflects his grin.
© 24 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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