Written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt: 'Stranger'.
FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME
Down on the autobahn by the funny farm where the big kickers go.
I don’t give a ruck about them, but that’s where their stiletto’s get stuck.
Him in the habit said his name was Shirley but Mummy calls him Jack.
Jack, get back in the closet, ‘cos no one cares about the things you wear.
Sam drives a Rolls Can’ardly, rolls down hills but can hardly get up ‘em.
Takes the chauffer and Daddy’s limo when he goes to town to tank up.
And Matey Minedrops is just about as ginger as his wardrobe friend.
He dresses to tease, to please himself, naked, looking in the mirror.
Then the cell phone goes, ‘pronto, yeah, yo, whats-yer-face what yer want? not now!’
When the stranger walks in, the stash goes down the pan, for the umpteenth time.