Boodwar
The back of my car is a tart’s boodwar
with lipsticks and joss sticks and half a jar
of gloopy stuff you can slosh on your face
(no lid) and a broken vanity case,
nail varnish (clear), a bottle of beer
(empty) and Kleenex and tampax and lurex
and a something for cleaning your ear,
right here, a something for cleaning your ear.
The back of my car is a tart’s boodwar
with razor-blades, band-aids, an old Mars bar
(well sat on was that one but still in its packet)
there’s seventeen buttons, a bolero jacket
belonging to God-knows-who, and glue –
pritt-stick, bostik, evo-stik
and a whatsit to stick in your loo,
it’s true, a whatsit to stick in in your loo.
The back of my car is a tart’s boodwar
with paper-clips, hair clips, a panama
(mine, I admit) , a packet of fags,
three barley sugars from party bags
down the back of the seat, and a teddy bear,
and ear-rings and nose-rings and curtain rings
and a dingus for streaking your hair,
it’s there, a dingus for streaking your hair.
|