Stories For Thing

Unfinished

on August 14, 2013

girl

Today on the bus called Back Home
I dangled my legs and wrote a pome
About when I’d be a lady and all,
Jiggly chest, lipstick and tall.

I should like to marry a millionaire
And own a bookshop, one here, two there.
Or I’ll marry a bookshop and turn it out
With tea and scones and an orange cat stout

I would butter my cats and pet my scones
And pour tea down red tellyphones.
I’d knead and bake old Rumpelstiltskin
Top him with Playdoh, sprinkle him with mint.

I’d stand on fat books to trap the fairy (tales) in
Order them to stop being so pretty, and pull out a wing.
I’d tell rude old women, who came in for tea
Exactly what I think of them completely for free.

That’ll show them for pinching my cheeks
Or crushing my face to their pudding chest of fleece.
I’d run far away if I was asked to be polite
Disappear to secret places and give my folks a fright.

I’d empty the refrigerator and leave open the door
For my polar bears to climb in, to slumber and snore
My flamingo would be my sceptre, my staff
Or would I need something taller, maybe a giraffe?

I’d make a thing, all shiny and clean
that goes around call it the More and More Machine.
what would it make more of i don’t quite know
more and more rubbish maybe, a lot more than before

i could tell you about my teachers in school
wearing a man’s shoes, missing a toe, keeping the rule
but the Back Home Bus has brought me home
where I’ll be too busy to finish this poem

By Sandhya Menon


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