I wish to report a strange man
of average height, indeterminate
skin colour but a knowing look
who sidled into town today
wearing an immaculate top hat
and shoddy trainers.
He said he was searching
for a convenient park
popular with the townspeople
where he could set himself up
to sell his famous elixir.
He pulled out a small dark bottle
from his worn and bulging rucksack
and held it up between finger and thumb
with studied reverence
and a certain arch affection.
He shook it gently :
“So no one believes
in this kind of thing
any more, eh ?” he said,
with a wink.
“I tell you, matey,
once I get going,
those punters
will come running.
I sell it by the gallon.”
I looked at the labels :
“LET’S TAKE BACK CONTROL,” said one.
“Take a spoonful of me
three times a day for a week
after meals
and then sit back
and enjoy
everlasting life,” it added.
“ME STRIVER YOU SKIVER.”
said another. “Spit me onto a “skiver”
three times a day for a week
after meals
and then sit back
and enjoy
everlasting life,” it added.
“MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN,”
said a third. “Together
we’ll nuke our worrisome neighbours
three times a day for a week
after meals
and then sit back
and enjoy
everlasting life,” it added.
I looked up after this third one
and found him studying me
with a kind of savage
glee in his eye.
I believe this man is dangerous.
I believe he is selling
a mortal poison.
Over to you.
Rogan Wolf, July 30th 2016