Twister

Me Christmas dinner.

I am a slight and lesser man,
With added prunes
To keep me regular.
 
My Christmas feast of
Chicken stew with brussels sprouts,
Is splattering the microwave.
 
I shall pull a festive cracker,
Eat dinner in a paper hat.
 
Soaking myself in memories of
When lost in love
Hobbled by fervent hope,
I stood in siling rain
Gently pebbling my lover’s window.
 
The curtains stayed closed,
The welcome lamp unlit.
I walked away, turned,
Walked away, turned.
Wept the bitter pathway home.
 
I had been reduced
To mere ‘third spear’,
An incidental in the chorus
Of her glorious opera buffo.
 
I had shared my lustings equally
With simple souls
Who could not cope
With my profligacy,
 
And smooth-tongued liars,
Gilt-edged promise peddlers,
Spinners of wondrous dreams.
 
“Let us banquet on newborn unicorn,
In a hot air balloon floating serenely
High over the plains of Serengeti.”
 
“Let us sail a princely brigantine
In coats of alligator fur
Through icy mists of centaur breath
On uncharted emerald seas.”
 
No Charon ferries me
Through black ink spindrift seas
Sodden flotsam surrounds me.
Everything.
Everyone.
Ebbs away.
 
For dessert;
A box of ‘Twisters’
With ‘sensuous smooth hazelnut filling’.
 
Washed down with antacids,
Antacids and tea.
 

 

© coolhermit 2020
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Mitch

Loved this -= ver’ ver’ clever
“And smooth-tongued liars,
Gilt-edged promise peddlers,
Spinners of wondrous dreams.”
– a wonderfluff triple indeed.
Bravo, sirrrah.

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