Mary talks to herself

Art by author

Mary put on her purple unlined wool coat
This coat seems too large, she told Emile. her smiley, little cat
Well, yes, it does seem to drape loosely over your massive bosom,Emile answered
That’s better than it clinging to my mature body, she remarked sarcastically yet sadly
Oh,no, said Emile, males love to see women’s figures
Well, they will not see mine. unless I do arithmetic on the blackboard;I must be losing weight
Is it dementia, the naughty cat enquired woundngly
Don’t be ridiculous.I have not forgotten who I am not gone out to Waitrose to buy the Oxford
Dictionary of Humming and Frightening Neighbours
True, he replied.Why not put another jumper on.It would look nice left open over a teal
merino wool rollneck
But I only have pale iris, she complained poisonously
Never mind,I don’t expect the police will arrest you for that.
Mary walked towards the bus stop, humming “The future” by Leonard Cohen
She said to herself, can’t you sing something more positive
Joan of Arc , her self replied
OK,I prefer Dance me to the End of Love
But that is about the Orchestra at Auschwitz
Well why does is it not called,Torture me and Kill Me as I sing
I don’t think anyone would buy that.And as Cohen said himself, poetry takes us to places different from what we expect
So even the composer is not the total Authority?
No,we are merely channels for the Other World
Mother,Emile miaowed, are you ok?
Just a touch of schizophrenia, Emile.Ignore me.I forgot you were with me
I didn’t know women liked to be ignored.Cats don’t
Well, you do now
And so mew all of us

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