The Queue

She'd been on the Queen Mary,
she told the check-out girl.

 

She'd given up smoking, they could see 
she still pursed her lips,

 

snake hand poised,

for the camera.

 

And she'd been a welder in the war,
she showed the burn on her arm.

 

He was away, months on end,
the Arctic convoys, you know.

 

Done with nodding and smiling,
or simply looking away,

 

the tail twitched and quivered
till she paid, and left her scent.

.