A Kind Of Distraction

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You always disrupt me;

When I ring you for comfort

You wing me, send my

Pudding of a mind

A-splatter on the wall.

You chase me to bed even,

Passionately, not-yourself-at-all,

You bawl your lewd reminders

Down aching avenues of dreams

To shudder me awake.

And then at last you’ll fake

Your promises and take

Some simpler way, battening

On the eggs you’ll hatch

Warmly some tea-cosy day.

All this, you’ll say, was

Merely adolescence, not

The real unpoked you,

Tittupping in high heels

And cellophaned to view.

© Barry Tebb