He sees you pretending not to look
And asks
“Do I tick all the boxes? ”
Well now let’s see
Cleanly shaven
Modest looks
Short hair
Not fat
Kindly eyes
That like reading books.
But how do you know if
I’m into greyhound racing
Hunting foxes
Eating meat
And chickens reared in boxes
Or like fast cars
And faster women
And fast food after drinking
And the only leftish things about me
Are one arm and a leg
But definitely not my head
And since you’re wearing trousers
Let’s not go round the houses
I’ll just act not interested……
Unless you’ve a secret
I’ve not anticipated.
Could it be
You write Poetry? He thinks…...
And just because he’s got cream crumble
Doesn’t mean some poetic
Chicken soup or even salad
Wouldn’t stop a tummy rumble…..
So here’s his poem ohh so humble
About his way to chat and grumble
To himself on the public tramway
When he notices that you are trying
Not to look, or any other kind of prying
As he sits and reads his book.
And you are really trying;
trying not to pry or look……
But really, really want to know
What is that book he’s reading?
If only he’d turn it just a little
You could relax
and go back to your crossword puzzle.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crossword-puzzles/
