It's my first memory of
social embarrassment. I loudly proclaimed my older cousin Barry
“sexy” and brought the pickled onion crunching crowd to a
glowering halt. His shirt collar was open over his jacket collar, his hair was slick with Brylcreem. It passed for style in
those dismal days and I'd confused style with sexy. I have no idea
where heard the word before but clearly it was a faux pas.
Years later I remember an
Alzheimer's patient – an old school proper gentleman - pointing at
his visiting daughter shouting “she sucks my cock”. Painfully
embarrassed his daughter turned to everyone and mouthed, “I'm
sorry.... I don't”.
My imagination conflated
these episodes.
Clock
Watchers In The Woods
Cloth ears?
Her ill fitting teeth?
What did
granny just gabble
at the
gathering?
The voice
above the rabble
Stopped the
chatter and the babble,
Granny said
there are cock
suckers in
the woods.
Everyone
looks nervous,
coughs and
shuffles, muffles giggles.
Talk shifts
to the weather;
Mother
squirms and wriggles,
smiles
politely, tugs his tresses
then to
avoid his guesses,
whispers
sotto voce,
Granny said
clock watchers.
She gabbles
often garbled.
What she
mutters hardly matters
since she's
lost her marbles.
Dad, who'd
be watching clocks
or washing
socks
this late
at night?
She uttered
sucking cocks.
What's it
mean?
Whisked
away swiftly,
unjustly
and unwilling,
fluster and
kerfuffle,
A tug-o-war
to bed -
tuttering
and trilling,
But to
no-one in particular
he said -
Christ that
little fucker's
on the
subject of cock suckers
and he just
doesn't seem to
want to let
it go.
©
Wreck of my old self productions
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