Street haunting my wobbly way home
corner of St Augustine's and Murray when
Look out it's the Peelers
My companions suddenly evaporate
the jam sandwich brakes hard and the feller's
fast out and up in my grill, polite like
'Excuse me sir you match the description
of someone we'd like to talk to
regarding a serious incident'
My default pos in such circs
regretfully
is flippancy and verbosity
'You must be sorely mistaken officer sir because
I match no description anyone even the most
imaginative writer could conjure
either verbally
or armed with pen why
even these days the old AI'
'Now look here - '
'It can't be me, whatever it is I have or
haven't done because you see I am sui generis'
He shakes his head and purses his pretty lips
'You do not have to say anything... '
And so forth before
announcing rather prissily that I could
well be charged with misuse
of the King's Latin on the
public highway, what a jumped up trumped up little
Realise I'm speaking out loud
'Get in the back of the van!'
No comments:
Post a Comment