Miss Taken

A Poem by Marshall

‘Im taken’
She said nonchalantly.
No I wasn’t shattered or heart broken
It was the way smart women described
their final journey to the altar
Good on them for being so positive.

I'm told life was a breeze for them.
for a few years, that is.
Roses and red wine, vintage art
cruises along the Mediterranean
Two kids growing sweetly and
A social circle of upmarket
Ittle finger protruding mates & maidens
who spoke queens English
and had upturned noses.

Tut Tut…
he had a roving eye.

They soon fought in the courts
and on the streets
at home and by the seaside.
The friends vanished
The wine evaporated
and the little fingers all folded in.

I met her again, a decade later.
At the railway station
( I usually like to travel home
with friendly people)

“Helllooooo” she cooed
“And how you been?”
“Good” I am a man of few words.

She looked tired.
My gym mates forced me
to get some abs & some new skin
I was alone and happy.
Not willing to fall over with any more full figures.

Miss Taken got off one station earlier
I carried on regardless.
In hindsight my words were not enough
to stir up any heat or dust from the past.
I just watched as the train whistled out of the station

Miss Taken wiggled her way home. Alone.