Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Tuesday Poem: In The Time Of Cabbages


In The Time Of Cabbages

Now it is The Time of Cabbages
And we stand like fishmongers
Feeling the icy tentacles of Doom
Crawling over the counter toward us.

Now, do not be a salesman
In my immediate vicinity,
And I will not engage
In base mathematical practices
With the person who habitually stands
Next to you at parties.

Can a man who wears underpants
Ever be really and truly great?
Shall we ever be able to forget string vests
And how such a great tragedy
Was ever allowed to happen?

Go now, and forget that these
Were ever your tiddlywinks.
Memory is hard, while forgetting
Is like the chip shop
In the middle of the council estate.

We sat on the wall
And ate our chips.
Back then, that was romance.
We could have had candles and wine
And it would not have made
Any real difference.

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