on harridan avenue
the argument turns
on who saw the cigarette
that’s lying on the ground
first
it’s mine
no it’s not you’re nothing but a bitch
well I lent you one yesterday
oh you’re such a liar
you never lent me anything
and now I HATE you
the trees have heard
the neighbours know
the echoes repeat the accusation
it seems a touch extreme
but a cigarette
is law
is money in the bank
is a transport to a moment of satisfaction
on harridan avenue
the girls make up
after one’s informed the staff
about what the bitch has done
and the other has screamed
to her small world
about injustice
and woe
they get on well enough
and they’re better than the third old girl
whose place
is collecting the used up stubs
of long gone butts
and begging flame
to get a light
she laughs in that old fashioned way
that you still hear
now and then
on harridan avenue
~
-
Author:
Frank Prem (
Offline) - Published: May 24th, 2018 02:06
- Comment from author about the poem: Franks Psychiatry Pt 5 - hostel life.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments2
You once again have my respect for the work that you did.
Cheers GF. Just what became my lot in working life. Still engaged in doing it.
Frank,
Laughter is good!
When these events
happen, how do you view them?
~Laura~
I still get both amused and bemused.
You have to be able to laugh - with and not at, preferably - because it is the theatre of the absurd, at times.
Right on, my friend...always with them!😊
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