|
|
Glimpse
the teller at my bank is Samuel Beckett
at
he ghost wrote 'Shades of Grey', loves open
spaces,
eats like a horse, jumps in his Porsche and
races
my doctor is a waiter at Zedel
a loss at poker makes him stamp and yell
he sports bow ties and tails with artless
style
then stuffs cream cakes and croissants by the
pile
my lawyer is a keeper at the Wallace
he shines that gaudy stuff with spit and
polish
spills dodgy secrets, likes a risque joke
shares bevvies with Zizek and homeless blokes
the buyer at John Lewis is my mother
when she walks round recalcitrants take cover
in six inch heels she glides glass corridors
she drinks pink gin and lingers after hours
I walked behind Clint Eastwood through the
square
some fainted some went ape some grinned and
stared
that charm and loose cool strut blew me away
he vanished in the Doubles Agency
Liz Callingham