In The Absence Of Fruit Vendors, For Will Tyas

You promised me Cockney shouting,
there was no one flogging yams or kumquats
in fruit machine karaoke, hurling grizzly offers
of two pound a pair or pear, I don’t know,
no one was there to distinguish, I just got transfixed
with passer by eyes at the vendor menagerie
being shuffled into overnight boxes
that would wake up next market day when I’m not
present for the colours of Cockney hands.
Instead, we settle on a seat in Wimpy
for fast food, which I can’t eat because
I promised myself I wouldn’t for some reason…
nothing to do with New Year… You order a Coke float
and I a Wimpy Shake, which only comes in
Shaken Milk flavour. It’s cold and you suggest
I should be able to come up with something
more poetic, which seems wasted on
tasteless milkshakes and I try to pay with
manky currency, that you dispute with the cashier
over, telling her it’s perfectly acceptable
when really, I’m OK with paying by card,
I was trying to get rid of my trick pounds
and make you pay for promising me Cockney shouting.

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