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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 05, 2016

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Submitted: August 05, 2016



I'd drilled the holes
for the tubular poles,
and went along
to the office
to register
the work done.

Edna slid back
the glass shutter.

How long was you
on the job?
She asked

It could have
been quicker,
but she kept moving,
I said.

Edna smiled a bit;
I meant the work
you just done.

15 minutes,
I said.

Slower than last time,
she said.

You remember?
I thought after
that last gin
you'd not recall it,
I said.

15 mins, then?
She said,
going red,
you must keep
to the work in hand
she said.

That's what
the call-girl
said to the bishop,
I said.

Edna looked around
at the office behind her:
the manager was out
on the shop-floor
snooping round.

I am a happily
married woman,
she whispered.

I am a happy
single guy,
I replied,
taking in
her neat sweater
and red lips.

You need only
tell me
the work
you have done,
she said.

Ok, just the holes
bored through,
I said,
all in 15 mins.

She sighed,
and looked at me:
what was the job
before that?
She asked.

Putting the elastic
into the side holes,
I said.

And how long?
She said.

About 6 inches
I said.

She slammed
the shutter shut.

I walked back
to the work bench,
and Joyce handed me
some more 6 inch
elastic pipes to thread
through the holes.

Put it in
like I showed you,
Joyce said.

I said nothing
to that,
and threaded
the elastic through.

What else
was a young guy
to do?

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