I fell asleep on your sofa and had a dream about a small child in
dungarees who caught his hands in the doors of the Paris metro. Then
my face cracked open and you were there, you were there dressed in
green, saying something obscene. But that’s why I came here in the
first place, Oh well that and the tea. Can I stay here lying under the
table together with you now? Can I hold you? Forever in acrylic
afternoons I want to hold you tight whilst children play outside and wait
for their mothers to finish with lovers and call them inside for their tea.
Cushions and TV and the table set for tea. One for you, one for me.
Come and lie down on the settee in that green jumper, you can have
anything you want and the clock is saying it’s half past four but you
know I want to stay a little more. Can I stay here lying under the
table…etc. On a pink quilted eiderdown, I want to pull your knickers
down. Net curtains blow slightly in the breeze. Lemonade light filtering
thru the trees. It’s so soft and it’s warm. Just another cup of tea please
(one lump thanks). Can I stay here lying under the table…etc. Oh Kevin,
Shane, Julie, Diane, Wayne, Frank, Heather, Rachel, Chelsea, Leanne,
come home. It’s time for your tea.
