unopened mail tells the story better
the rambling dissertation of a vague
fifteen-second attention span fails
in this plainly broken man
hey, how’re things today – you’re
looking sharp for a loser with no
place to hide and an overdraft
so where’s the mail-order bride?
yeah, over the limit I know but any
attempt at humour when weather’s
this dry has to have tears in it to
bring a sense of relief
no need to make a fuss but a mug
of tea will be great if you’re making
say, why don’t you grab a seat while
I clean the bench and do the dishes
I know you’re trying – I see your lips
trembling shamefully to say thanks
are those really tears in your eyes –
surely I didn’t mention her name
© 21 July 2009, I. D. Carswell
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