She fumed
and fumed loud.
And as she
disabused me
of my place
in the human
race — given
my lineage
must be replete
with morons and
monkeys —
her otherwise neat
and clipped
peroration
was interlarded
with sailors’ slang
and potty talk,
and ended with
a red-faced
squalk.
“Fair dinkum, gal,”
I replied,
smiling the smile
that’ll usually
sink ’em.
Stonefaced,
nothing. I sighed
and completed
the refund
that would send
her away.
Thank God,
I’m stoned
all day.
Jak's View of Vancouver v.3 