He dresses like
Legendary Roy Scheider
But his friendship remains
Threadbare.
The poet warms-up
Old-hardened bread
Like his Muse had taught him
Wetting it before he baked it
In the oven.
However even the extraction
Isn’t enough to keep the smell
Of baking acceptable to B
Who throws a tantrum about
It all.
There was never an intention
Of chasing B away for good
Even if she thinks of this as
Cunning tactics.
It was the last thing left for
Eating: a tin of mackerel and
Two pieces of reconditioned
Dark bread
Finding out that one piece
Was inside eaten by moths.
Damned!
Enough.
Lucky I had a tot of whisky left
Serving me well just in time.
He dresses like legendary
Roy Scheider
In light coloured suites
And prefers a dish of duck liver
Sautéed.
The poet has a beer instead
Avoiding rich dishes
Light coloured suites
And Panama hats.
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.