Greedy Gubbins

Greedy Gubbins.

I want to get up.

I want to see how much my eyes

have swollen,

want to see Kokki dash across the court

in his tiger shorts after his prey,

want to see those arum lilies again

trumpet their hosannas to orange,

want another pod coffee

another shot of Bailey’s

just a thimble full

but my partner sees me passing by.

You should rest your eyes, she says and I say,

too much to see,

and I know what she’s about to say

even before she says it:

my mummy would have called you,

a Greedy Gubbins, she’ll say

and then she says it,

Ouch!

Soap

 

She had just come from the clinic from seeing the care nurse and seemed a little flustered.

Everything okay? he asked.

There was a medical student there. I said to the nurse I didn’t mind. He was neat, presentable, well spoken and was totally okay except for the fact he kept adjusting his crotch.

Perhaps he was just glad to see you.

That isn’t even remotely funny. Not these days.

Sorry, he said. I’ll be back in a minute.

Where are you going?

To the bathroom. To wash my mouth out with soap.