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terry-collettPoems
In Hamburg an American girl climbed aboard sitting next to the Southend teacher with the spectacles and loud mouth and she looked back at the rest of you and said Hi you guys how’s it going? murmured replies returned Moira said behind her cupped mouth a ******* Yank is all we need you looked windowward spying new buildings post-war the could-be-any-where kind of set up the driver drove off the Polish mother and daughter muttered in their tongue Moira’s hips pushed into yours as the mini bus turned sharp down some side street the American girl chatted up the driver some long haired hippy type smoking and puffing and you remembering the night before the tent up the canvas tight and you and Billy down on your bags he staring up at the canvas green and unclean you listening to Moira in the next tent sharing with some unfortunate giving it the rant and rave about some misgivings in her Glasgow tone Billy raising his eyes in disbelief and you wondering if ever she silenced her tongue and tone and charmed her fearsome stare whether you’d be happy there lying beside her kissing her neck or lips or cheek or nestling between her small plump **** but looking beside you as the mini bus moved off at a pace you saw her sour face glare at the American’s head and thought you’d rather kiss the old Polish mother instead.
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
HAMBURG IN 74.
In Hamburg an American girl climbed aboard sitting next to the Southend teacher with the spectacles and loud mouth and she looked back at the rest of you and said Hi you guys how’s it going? murmured replies returned Moira said behind her cupped mouth a ******* Yank is all we need you looked windowward spying new buildings post-war the could-be-any-where kind of set up the driver drove off the Polish mother and daughter muttered in their tongue Moira’s hips pushed into yours as the mini bus turned sharp down some side street the American girl chatted up the driver some long haired hippy type smoking and puffing and you remembering the night before the tent up the canvas tight and you and Billy down on your bags he staring up at the canvas green and unclean you listening to Moira in the next tent sharing with some unfortunate giving it the rant and rave about some misgivings in her Glasgow tone Billy raising his eyes in disbelief and you wondering if ever she silenced her tongue and tone and charmed her fearsome stare whether you’d be happy there lying beside her kissing her neck or lips or cheek or nestling between her small plump **** but looking beside you as the mini bus moved off at a pace you saw her sour face glare at the American’s head and thought you’d rather kiss the old Polish mother instead.
terry-collett
Written by
terry-collett
English
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
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