POETRY: HE DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING FOR ME, IN THAT WAY… AT ALL BY PAUL TRISTRAM

She declared generally and rather too loudly
from over by the busy kitchen table.
Amphetamine and alcohol encouraged,
in between the banging music being changed,
in someone else’s house hull of strangers,
2am on a Welsh Winter’s morning.
“Yes, he’s at home now looking after the kids,
why pay for a babysitter?
I just leave that fat fuck at home instead.
Love, Ha! don’t be so ludicrous,
there’s no such thing is there? I mean not really.
I needed a doormat and he was the only one about
…not saying that I wouldn’t have minded
a better looking ‘buff’ doormat
but hey, we work with what we’ve got, don’t we.
The one night stands, oh I just tell him
that people are trying to cause trouble for us
and split him up from his wonderful wife
and the daft sod just draws closer to me.
He’s like putty in my hands, bless him
and shit beneath my ‘wearing the trousers’ shoe
…and he’ll stay exactly where he is until
I decide to scrape him off and then ruin him!”

Written by Paul Tristram

Barstool

Available to buy via Lulu

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s