The [i]Dartford tunnel
Took its toll on our patience and our love and
My wife, trapped in traffic,
Fumed like an old kettle, fit to explode.
At home and with time on my hands and mischief in mind,
I turned to my mistress so fragrant and kind, and
Took the time to ‘get it on’ once more.
In the lavender filled washing liquid flavored air
Which oozed out of the white, wet tray above
The virgin white cube’s glass porthole,
To the background Brazilian Bossa nova rhythm of
The dirty dish washer
I quickly put her on the cooker top and
Screwed her lid right off!
Know what I mean boys?
Sure, my wife’s revolving bra’s and pants
In shocked surprise
Pressed their face against the glass and
[ii]Criticized my efforts, but this was a
Well-practiced event now,
A quick and illicit
Hunger-panging
[iii]Guilt-ridden
[iv]Aluminium pan banging affair
‘Cause you see, me and Mrs.. Sharwood, well,
[v]We got a thing goin' on and
Though we both know that it's wrong
It’s just much too strong
To let it go now
Beaten by a 4lb hammer
The [vi]Diamond wood grenade
Unmercifully split the [vii]knotted hazel
Bringing the proud and unyielding log to its knees
Like a Pole axe pounded into a pink pigs head, and so
Stripped of its Samson like strength
Its long grained meat now lay crackling in the fire.
“Just one more screw”
I thought
“Before she barges through the door” and
The cork,
Sucked out of the brown bottle’s neck
Bounced to exhaustion on the kitchen floor
Sweet and sour chicken and some long grain rice
Thawed the fiery ice of commuter madness, and
Served in front of a red hot roaring fire
With some chilled white wine
Unlike the M25, speedily
Turned winter into summer in
Double quick,
Quick double time
“Thank you my dear”
She said,
“That was lovely” and
“All that effort!”
“Yeah,” I thought
“You poor deluded thing.”
Little did she know that me and Mrs. Sharwood, well,
We got a thing goin' on and though we
Both know that it's wrong
It’s just much too strong
To let it go now
© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell
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