The idea of cleaning the grease-trap wouldn’t’ve
daunted a few years back - easy-peasy you’d’ve
said breezing into it; but then wasn’t midsummer
& temperatures didn’t scorch like a forest on fire;
yet here we are, home again - with this evidence
clinging like embarrassment stinking higher than
Hades; when we came back why didn’t we think
of this - an unexpressed question burning tips of
of tongues wracked with the indecency; oh yeah,
would’ve been less ordeal - more a homecoming
rite of passage, where we earned our right to the
pleasure of being in our hacienda; but them’s th’
breaks we’re left with - so it’s plug away at what
ever it takes to get the system flowing again …
© 12 January 2016, I. D. Carswell
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