A short curvy waitress,
whose legs open a little to casually. Blonde hair tied in an efficient ponytail. Her true self only revealed by the black roots at her scalp
Humorous illustrated poetry
Longing For a Full Colour Life
She stands alone before sink and bowl
And feels the ache within her soul The hand that once caressed her there Rests on the arm of favourite chair
I wish I’d said look out
Then maybe you’d have seen the bus
But you were on your phone
Making a reservation
Oh my stomach’s churning.
Rather full you see.
In fact stuffed.
Gurgle, glug, hiss.
It makes the most embarrassing sounds.
It’s her fault of course.
Fed me too much again.
All sorts. Just mixed together.
No respect for my system.
Round and round it goes like a wad of wet clothes.
and presses herself against me
as I vibrate
across the kitchen.
Trying to shake things loose.
I woke up this morning
and thought the sun was a lemon.
Well maybe a grapefruit as lemons are
well – lemon shaped.
Frost shivers in cold misty air and drips from the trees The sun peers round heavy grey clouds. In their homes people lie as if dead; stuffed with turkey and booze. We walk, my dog and I, through a suspended world.