For Neath Paula, Rest In Peace, your dark days are over
“Where? Show me… quickly.”
“Up at that ‘Your One Hangover’.
My laptop’s fucked.
Where’s your phone, hurry.”
“Oh fuck, it’s in Cash Converters again
until Child Benefit Day.
What did he say?”
“Oh, you know… cute girl,
short skirt, kilt or something.
Pretty as a picture and all that kack.
Fingers & tongues caressing…
Fuck it, I can’t remember properly…
I’m not the poet he is…
Oh, she pissed on him!”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know, and he liked it,
I think, either that or he didn’t mind?
He was lost in the magical moment,
whatever the fuck that means?
I wouldn’t like it myself
but then he got his cock out!”
“OMG, tell me?”
“Oh you know what he’s like…
something about a burning crescendo.
Losing a small part of his soul inside her
with the ensuing explosion.
And pre-cum on the inside of her white thigh
the shape of Pinocchio’s dildo… no, elbow.
Fuck it, let me get my fucking coat and fags,
we’ll go to Wetherspoon’s on the High Street
and blag or slag our way online.”
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096 ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036 And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326415204 You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/
Your One Phone Call 