Lines written after playing for three days in a bandstand in Crawley Shopping Centre outside Poundland All these wares Fabulous wares All a pound A mere pound What palace is this, this primary coloured Nirvana into which I have stumbled All these things I had no idea I wanted All affordable Scissors, peanuts, jelly beans and puncture repair kits All a pound A mere pound Any how my heart pounds as I survey More scissors, sandpaper, rice pudding and cycle locks And here, surely not, can it be… My soul? For a pound? Is this some sign some kind of joke? I summon the assistant, not an easy person to find in this bewildering Alladin’s cave of affordability, Is this some mistake? My soul for a pound? A mere pound? But no, he says, it is not a mistake, just make your way to the till, definitely a pound. Now my heart is REALLY pounding as I make my way to the till What will it look like, this soul I am about to purchase? For a pound A mere pound. I have an idea at the back of my mind’s eye it is purple With yellow streaks But that is fanciful And besides, why conjecture, soon I will find out, For there is a long queue but it is moving As others purchase pasties, pastries, sunglasses and varnish For a pound. My time comes, the vacant youth behind the till tries to smile at me Oh the excitement And I am given a small gold disk, serrated at the edge Surely this cannot be my soul? And I realise I am clutching a pound A mere pound. And only then it dawns on me that I have not been buying But selling.
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 19:36:47 +0000
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