| Does he talk? Not like some, Do I know him? I know the order he takes off his clothes, how he folds and places them on the chair. The way he counts and folds the notes, one extra as a tip. I know his preferences... Why he chose the code words ‘Bolo Rei.’ His alibi? Yes, sometimes out of town research into his family tree, the fact finding mission into the best deal on the next car, but usually the shopping trip for the bread she prefers, yeast and gluten free. She hates the colour red. Thinks diamonds look common. Had a strict upbringing. Would never walk round the house naked, Would worry if she knew their eldest was on the pill. They’ve agreed; she cooks, he washes up except that curry which though he says it himself and she agrees, he can do better than the local Indian. But really she’s the cook, even bakes for him not herself due to her allergies. They only disagree on holidays, she prefers cold him hot, take it in turns to decide. Paints as well. Never feels she’s good enough and looking back that first time in her bedsit he knew but put it down to the fact she hadn’t he had and apart from that they’re a perfect match. Back home she’ll have baked his favourite cake, well not quite favourite. Favourite’s the king cake he can only get on his choice of holiday where for the locals it’s no problem to make, but she can’t work out the recipe over there they call it ‘Bolo Rei.’ Sally Clark |
If you have any comments on this poem,
Sally Clark would be
pleased to hear them.
