How The Ghosts of Them Cling

I caught sight of  a young woman with pink hair, grey / blonde at the roots, pushing a baby buggy.

——————————————————————————

With hair, electric red at the tips,
fading through dirty blonde
to mouse at the scalp,
Ammonia Nitrate – as she once was,
who sang in the Sisters of Lethargy,
wearing fishnet tights,
and slit leather skirts –
no knickers,
while guys with gorilla snot purple mohawks
nostril chains and safety pin ears
flegged in the mosh pit at their mates,
played with their balls in the cubicles
and some jacked off
and some sniffed coke,
and some sniffed poppers,
wrestled her push chair
down along Broke Wheel Avenue.

There was a one-off pay-off cheque to cash
from the folks of the ‘latest’
who, like the rest,
bit her breasts,
bruised her legs,
spat his spunk and not much more
beneath whose kids,
and carrier bags,
she was daily crucified.

From behind in Money Shop
a shoulder tap,
“Excuse me but weren’t you once Amy
from the Sisters of Lethargy?
I used to have you on cassette
until the cat went and tangled it.
You were fabulous back in the day,
all the guys were after you –
we were dead jealous,
it was great, eh?”

Ammonia, as was,
smiled at the memory
and picked a fly
from the corner of her eye.
“Okay… it was… okay.”

Ammonia Nitrate – as she once was,
who sang in the Sisters of Lethargy,
wearing fishnet tights,
and slit leather skirts –
no knickers,
sat on her red vinyl sofa
after a packet of salt ‘n’ vinegar
and a cheesy toasty
watching a cookery show on TV.

An embroidered cushion lay across her lap,
exquisite black silk with a Japanese leaf motif
worked out in antique gold.
She sucked a thread end
to slip through a crewel eye.

“Mummy! Mummy!”
Mountbatten, (older brother of Lincoln and baby Kennedy)
heavy nappy ankle-wrapped,
toddled, whimpering, to her feet,

“Up you come, Sweetie, let’s get that changed.”

Ammonia Nitrate – as she once was,
who sang in the Sisters of Lethargy,
wearing fishnet tights,
and slit leather skirts –
no knickers,
looked fondly at her needlework

and sighed it away for another day.

© coolhermit 2017
Views: 437
critique and comments welcome.

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5 Comments on "How The Ghosts of Them Cling"

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Sweetwater
Member

You have such a talent for this down to earth gutsy writing, telling how life ‘in the raw’ can be but without making the reader condemn the main character, and even make us relate in some way to them. Sue.

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