Sailing to Suburbia

by

Hay Machine

A man and woman confront on a couch
she with agenda he with a slouch
sideways he answers the questions she asks
pressing remotely remotely the tasks
cleaning the what do you call it he hears
yes in a minute when she disappears
feet on the table for coffee designed
propped on her cushions beneath his behind

In his head are the noises that men understand
gas in his torso that needs to expand
heat in his socks where the toes are entwined
visions and lust drive him out of his mind
will you or won't you she asks with an edge
what he says sideways her patience to dredge
will you help me to tidy the garage tonight
I would if I could but I can't there's no light

Will you do it to-morrow or Saturday week
the year after next or assistance I'll seek
from a boy up the road with a leaning for toil
I must have assistance if blood's not to boil
will you open the window or empty the bin
is there any activity isn't a sin
I tell you she said in a voice soft as rain
with a life to live over I'd hate you again

What did you say he said sideways again
there's something on later and more later then
what's for my dinner and bring me a beer
your answer to questions like these I must hear
from the deeps of her heart she draws answers her own
my leaving is something I cannot postpone
I'd kiss you but frankly there's salt on my lips
he bids her adieu through a mouthful of crisps

She gathers a bundle of things in black bags
a phone and a lipstick a comb her tampax
tears for herself for being stupid she feels
in a pageant of lovers in fairytale fields
one day he would come on a stallion sublime
the prince of her childhood if that is a crime
I'm going I'm leaving in blinding attack
he pressed the remote but it would not playback

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Illusions
by: Jude Eydmann
from: London, England, UK

To visit all of Hay Machine's poems, click HERE

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