07 November 2016


What’s th’ boontuddie I say to me mate Podge 
who’s off with the faeries, tho’ maybe gremlins 
in his case as he’s into barking eclectic ideas; 
gee, he says we’re sitting here out on th’ front 
patio where there’s no tucker - what’s the GO
I fear he’s reflecting the toasted pita bread we 
had under poached eggs at breakfast, shared 
generously with him but refused, has spoken 

We repair to th’ rear patio where his food bowl 
still shows bits of yesterday’s prodigal spread; 
he implies that’s what I gruffing meant, chews 
a few of the dried bikkies altho eyeing cheese 
nibble slices disappearing without his vetting - 
musing that boontuddie didn’t turn up neither  
© 21 June 2016, I. D. Carswell 

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