Bloody buses, like bananas, always come in bunches
But there are none to hand and the afternoon audition
Promptly starts at half past three so I will not pull my punches
When I write my nasty letter to the Transport Ministry.
I’ve got my mother’s dress on, the one in pink with zinc paillettes
But it’s getting wet and sodden in this sodding pouring rain,
While I am getting madder yet and sadder with a ladder in my ‘nets
And black mascara tears running down my cheeks and ears.
Forlorn now are my hopes to play the part of Cleopatra,
Chances are my rival, a transvestite thespian Chinaman,
Will win today’s audition though I’d like to place a fatwa
On his head, or better yet to put my asp inside his bed.
Ever since I was a girl, I’ve loved the esoteric
And chosen parts to play that often mother didn’t care for;
When I dressed as Nostradamus she became hysteric
And we had to calm her down with herbal tea.
Oh, who would be an actress with no money for a taxi
And a parent who had named her for the stage? If only I had listened
When mother had me christened, for God’s sake, as “Cotopaxi”
I’d have made it very clear that I wanted something better than the boards.
*Written in response to a challenge by Scarborough Gypsy to write a rhymed poem about waiting for a bus and being late for an important appointment and also including the words ‘paillette’, ‘Chinaman’, and ‘hysteric'. A 'pailllette' is apparently a metal sequin.
Pete Crowther
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/challenge-poem-no-3-waiting-at-the-bus-stop-or-c/
