Not Stood Up
At last she had arrived, hips swinging.
Boobs leading,
heels clicking,
unhurried, rather strolling.
Two hours late,
I, like a girl,
a whimpy one at that,
I had stood there,
pretending very well
to like the neighbourhood.
But not quite blending in.
'Well, piss off, inner man,
your lonely finger of
such righteous indignation,
it just fell off, things happen!
Buses break down,
parents mingle,
handbags lost,
stolen carkeys,
bridges flooded,
blizzards roaming,
stalkers, male,
and those much softer,
obnoxious cops,
what counts is only
she is here.'
'So, tell her so! '.
'It is alright,
I have all day,
no problem, no,
I'll cancel classes,
the funeral of grandpa, too,
the graduation.'
She was not paying good attention,
could be a listener she was not,
but then who is, today, tonight?
Things more important
in this world were dear to her.
She glanced across the busy street,
well, looking, even maybe longing,
some interest of peculiar kind
was occupying her sweet mind.
Her pink-framed mouth then opened briefly,
exposing pearly whites and moist
strawberry tongue, God so delicious.
'Sorry', she said, 'truly I am,
[...] Read more
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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