Post by johnnysaturn on Jan 7, 2008 17:20:55 GMT -5
It’s past nine o’clock
and the regulars
have manned their stations
railing companionably
at the unmoved weather
pint glasses clasped
like standard-bearers.
Trevor with his faintly moth-eaten aura
sallow hair and Peter Lorre eyes
a stalwart of the warehouse
for over twenty years
tells anyone who blunders into earshot
how he has tirelessly remonstrated
with those damnfool consultants
about the need to reconfigure
the stock control systems
but cocooned in their textbook conceit
all they ever do
is stare right through him.
From across the bar
Joshua his shtick
a kind of pus
leaking from disappointment,
calls out for all to hear:
“Heard lately from Hiroko?”
That’s the Japanese Au Pair
who never went Dutch
squired by Trevor
to cinemas, restaurants
museums, ice rinks and
various out-of-town racecourses.
Also the recipient of
much lurid jewellery
marking the usual special occasions
as well as Hiroko's
periodic troughs of homesickness.
Trevor’s recompense
seemingly consisting of no more
than lisping disquisitions
on the parsimony of Hiroko’s employers
the odiousness of their children
and the tortuous love lives of
the Hollywood glitterati.
Plus five swift papal kisses
delivered on separate occasions
in acknowledgement
of exceptional largesse.
But in truth
her cast-iron unattainability
was the key to her attraction.
And while on that topic
a rumour often lovingly
taken out and dusted down
has it that Lorenzo
head barman of the Swan
and legendary heartbreaker
once did the dirty deed with Hiroko
while Trevor was dehors combat
with a particularly intractable case of shingles.
Lorenzo sphinx-like says no more than:
“You can’t believe
everything you hear”
shrewdly ensuring
both Trevor’s continued patronage
and the promulgation of his own mystique.
And ultimately
a year gone
and her time served
Trevor gawky in his suit
one size too big
escorts Hiroko to the Airport.
One final tangent
of forehead and lips
before she sashays
from the present to the past
through Departure Gate 16
leaving behind her
miscellaneous items
of excess baggage
and promises of a letter
which never comes.
and the regulars
have manned their stations
railing companionably
at the unmoved weather
pint glasses clasped
like standard-bearers.
Trevor with his faintly moth-eaten aura
sallow hair and Peter Lorre eyes
a stalwart of the warehouse
for over twenty years
tells anyone who blunders into earshot
how he has tirelessly remonstrated
with those damnfool consultants
about the need to reconfigure
the stock control systems
but cocooned in their textbook conceit
all they ever do
is stare right through him.
From across the bar
Joshua his shtick
a kind of pus
leaking from disappointment,
calls out for all to hear:
“Heard lately from Hiroko?”
That’s the Japanese Au Pair
who never went Dutch
squired by Trevor
to cinemas, restaurants
museums, ice rinks and
various out-of-town racecourses.
Also the recipient of
much lurid jewellery
marking the usual special occasions
as well as Hiroko's
periodic troughs of homesickness.
Trevor’s recompense
seemingly consisting of no more
than lisping disquisitions
on the parsimony of Hiroko’s employers
the odiousness of their children
and the tortuous love lives of
the Hollywood glitterati.
Plus five swift papal kisses
delivered on separate occasions
in acknowledgement
of exceptional largesse.
But in truth
her cast-iron unattainability
was the key to her attraction.
And while on that topic
a rumour often lovingly
taken out and dusted down
has it that Lorenzo
head barman of the Swan
and legendary heartbreaker
once did the dirty deed with Hiroko
while Trevor was dehors combat
with a particularly intractable case of shingles.
Lorenzo sphinx-like says no more than:
“You can’t believe
everything you hear”
shrewdly ensuring
both Trevor’s continued patronage
and the promulgation of his own mystique.
And ultimately
a year gone
and her time served
Trevor gawky in his suit
one size too big
escorts Hiroko to the Airport.
One final tangent
of forehead and lips
before she sashays
from the present to the past
through Departure Gate 16
leaving behind her
miscellaneous items
of excess baggage
and promises of a letter
which never comes.
