Someone like her
Five minute chats
Sit
Like a gut of bad food
That aches
For release
But you can’t heave it
For her it’s fun
It’s her reality
It seems unreal
Her eyes are manic
You’d like to pity her pain
But you can’t
You can’t see any reason
That she should exist
Hard but fair, that’s our way
You must explain
She comes up to you
Asks again where you work
For no apparent reason
Then she tells you
Mail is being stolen
Have you noticed
You have
Your payslips are missing
So are her bills
Went unpaid, she got reminders
It’s the guy across the road
Harry the hermit, she laughs
She caught him at it
So she took his mail
He wanted his back
So she asked for hers
She got some
Had his in her hand
She asked for the rest
He said he’d burnt it
She raised her hands
And tore his up
She thinks that’s funny
It is a little
He deserves it, she says
She continues
One time the hermit came to her door
With an axe
You feel that ache
In your guts
You listen
The hermit said if her son
Came to his house again
He’d hit him with the axe
So she pulled out a machete
Said you need a bigger axe
You dickhead
Again, she laughs
Your gut is aching
But not from belly laughs
She has more to say
About two daughters
Taken from her when young
The hermit dobbed her in
For interfering, as if, she says
They were taken before they turned five
It’s just like before
Every time she wants to talk
Things spiral down
They start low and plummet
Before you met her
You wouldn’t have known
That things could be so shit
She’s not finished
She says she’s told the cops
About the mail thieving, hermit
Tells you to, too
If you catch him
The cops won’t do anything
Until they have other complaints
You nod, like you do
That’s it
She goes
You walk on
Worse for hearing her shit
Not knowing how much
Is true
But sure
You don’t want to know
Not sure, certain
In the back of your mind
You wonder if the hermit
Hides from the world
Because he’s seen hell
Through her
You know
Not to be taken there
By her
