… La Tristram Durera Toujours…

-with a sly wink in my mother’s direction-

It’s a chain-smoking, charcoal sketching
kinda early morning…
the weather outside
of this West London ground floor flat,
matches the interior, absolutely.
You wanted flowers, I bought a poppy,
I’m skint, you mistook
‘It’s The Thought That Counts’
for ‘Profoundness’
and now I’m having to use white lies
and excuses… just for Breathing Space.
(‘The Waitresses Are Dancing Around
Wedding Rings’ I wrote back in 1988,
yeah, and they’re Asylum-Hinged in 2019)
I walked into an Old Curiosity Shop
late yesterday afternoon, evading ghosts…
and explained to the Druid-looking Gentleman
that I was desperately looking
for a pair of ‘Rose-Tinted Spectacles’.
“Oh dear”, he replied, nostalgically,
“We used to sell ‘em by the boxful,
until one day they were rounded up and Shot.”

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.