Fodder
A town in the south
A March Saturday night
A little bistro that serves pasta dishes to Terry and Julie
She is all twin-set nostalgia
He is slacks and argyle fantasies
They talk of a new austerity
Muddling through, carrying on
There is always the rugby, their pals at the ship
Their pintillot tankard, just a small sherry for control
There's the up-and-coming production of Oklahoma at the Civic Theatre for Julie
She's been a local
operatic for years
Started out in the chorus
Now promoted to play in the lead
That Christmas card did the trick
Terry makes the props
Pushes the scenery around
And the dancers a little too much
At the all-night garage on the edge of this town
Hard Eat takes a punch in the ribs for running out of bread and Rizzlo
Kebab-fueled boys piss on today's news
Newspapers vomit on the forecourt
Not far away, outside a lighted house
In a road in this town she should never be in
A Bacardi Breeze girl with winehouse hair
Lifts her skirt for a line of coke
The promise of love
Inside that house
The neck curtains twitch
Terry and Julie's permanent itch
Forever sore
Look further
A framed portrait
Pouted and poised
This is still Margaret's
A little winced country