Glass

 

WE ARE GLASS
Gary Numan once sang.

I didn't believe it.
I dismissed it as the ravings
of a paranoid schizophrenic
(albeit one with a pilot's licence)

but on Saturday night,
me and 'er indoors had a fight.
Despairing of my twattitude,*
she pushed me down the stairs.
On connecting
with the parquet flooring,
I smashed into
a thousand tiny fragments.
She was in bits but
I was in shards.
She retrieved the brush and dustpan
from the B & D repository,
swept me up and deposited me
in the recycling bin...

...where I remain,
awaiting collection on Wednesday,**
hanging out with Oscar the Grouch.


On Sunday morning,
I watched with growing discontent
as her Nu Man (my replacement)
showed up in his car
(I'm sure Gary would have approved).

I thought Well, that was quick.
I thought it rather drastic.
Looking at his shiny face,
it seemed a little plastic.

B.R. 24/09/2017


* twatty attitude
** or maybe Thursday. Or Friday. Definitely by the end of next week.