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Banker's Lament
Dean Wilson
My little heart
is filled with despair.
I live in London,
I'm a millionaire.
I work with people
who call me Sir.
I work with people
who wouldn't care
if thugs broke into
my house in Mayfair,
stole my Warhol
and tied me to a chair.
Love, love, love
is everywhere.
When, when, when
will I get my share?
Peer
He's a little
bit twisted
and his house
is grade two listed.
He loves his
wife very much
but sometimes
she can't get in touch
because he's on
a sling somewhere
being fisted
by a lady
from Weston-
Super-Mare.
Tiger's Lair
Phil May is singing
his little heart out
in his black shirt
and black slacks.
His Elvis legs are
all over the place
and the audience
are entranced.
If I had one ounce
of his charisma
I would consider
myself blessed
and if this was
Britain's Got Talent
the golden buzzer
would be pressed.
Up
As I walked past
Poundstretcher Extra
I caught a glimpse
of my reflection
and for once wasn't
repulsed by what I saw.
In fact I felt that good
about myself
I threw my cap into the air
like Mary Tyler Moore.
York
Don't wear white trousers
down Dame Judi Dench Walk.
I know someone who did
and they ended up in a coma.
Dean Wilson was a postman for twenty years and loves Hull City and Patsy Cline. He's been published in Rising, the Rialto, Magma, the North and the Slab. His chapbook There are Worse Things I Could do Than Write a Poem or Two Is published by Dancing Sisters. Confessions of a Redundant Postman is his first full collection and is out next year on Wrecking Ball Press.
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter – [email protected]
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