image: Ian Carrington
Gary, neat and whining charmer,
Thinking he’s the cat’s pyjama
Sprays Faye’s retro red bandana
With his musk
And she wonders ‘Is it karma
Blokes that look like Jeffrey Dahmer?’
She gets off on psychodrama
And his tusk
It’s a present from his cousin
Who in Chilwell bought a dozen
From a dealer with a disco on the side
The truth is less fantastic
The tusk not pachyderm – it’s plastic
But now’s not the time to say the ivory’s snide
‘I got it on safari
Somewhere in the Kalahari’
He passes her a bottle of Taboo
But it’s the memory of Daktari
Fuelling his uncertain blarney
Hoping she’s not seen the series too
She draws him closer to her
Through a haze of cheap Kahlua
Wondering where the lion sleeps tonight
Makes believe that he’s a hunter
Not a pissed-up Sneinton punter
This evening, he’ll stand in for Mr Right
He gets her a Bacardi
Weighs up the fact she’s mardy
Against her fascination with his face
Besides it’s not that often
He meets a girl who’ll soften
To his posing
To his patter
To his place
They get there in a taxi
A beat-up F-reg Maxi
The driver, playing bhangra, looks forlorn
Gary’s getting quite excited
By this woman he’s invited
To take him by surprise and by the horn
On the sofa they drink coffee
He’s classy, makes it frothy
And equally accomplished, makes his play
Faye considers for a minute
With her hand she strokes his chin –
It’s then she sees his tusk begin to sway
In this light it seems pathetic
No surprise – it is synthetic
The cheap and shoddy pendant round his neck
In that lingering second
Gary goes from rock to wreck and
Double-takes when Faye still beckons
And they kiss
Six years, three kids, two cars later
He’s a painter-decorator
And still wonders why she catered
For his wish
And one day when they’re fifty
Watching telly, feeling frisky
Sharing Diet Coke and whisky
Faye just smiles
On a wildlife documentary
She sees it’s elementary
Elephants should never be defiled
Thanks to Gary’s cousin’s purchase
Of a trinket that’s quite worthless
There’s an elephant in the circus
Not a grave
Which makes this poem morally curious
And animal rights types furious
So maybe I should go now, and just wave
Adrian Reynolds website
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