This is my writing blog, where I will be shamelessly posting my work. Poems, short stories, flash fiction, extracts from novels...they'll all be here. And if you don't like any of that, just play with the tiger.

Sunday, 25 May 2008

Dinnertime doggerel

We’ve made it through the East Lancs. jam,
the decent telly starts at eight,
so I put on a bright cheery voice:
‘what do you want to eat?’
You think, and shrug, and roll your eyes,
and ask me what I want;
as if my dish were your command.
‘I don’t mind,’ I say, and wait.
‘Whatever,’ you concede at length;
I take you at your word.
I offer Thai curry, good and green,
but you reckon curry’s weird.
‘Pasta?’ I counter. ‘A nice pesto sauce?’
You can’t object to that.
But then you do: with a ‘yak’ face you remind me
that pasta has no taste.
A fry up, then? Sausies burst the way
you like, eggs yolks nice and runny?
But my last fried feast, you remind me,
led to an evening crunching Rennies.

Now eight-thirty, beneath golden arches,
you ingest your cow derivative and cheese,
fix me with an aggrieved gaze and ask
‘Why’s it always me who has to chose?’

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With thanks to Graeme