stick around

Sadie, in a lavender nightie,

parked her bum on the arm of the settee

rolling a cig from the ashtray

to smoke while watching

a Ground Control re-run

on daytime telly

 

she had a crush on Monty Don -

always watched when he was on

 

Walter, her partner, sat beside her

 

as Sadie lit the rollie

smoke wreathed the head

of the ageing, fading

one-time show-girl

 

her countenance shone

with an unearthly glow -

not unlike the Starbucks logo.

 

Walter sat ramrod straight,

stuck fast to the vinyl sofa

his dissolving eyeballs

staring, unseeing, at the tv screen

as his elements mingled with Conchita,

Sadie’s long-deceased Chihuahua,

 

Sadie picked Ferrero Rochers

from a silver bon-bon tray 

tonguing the chocolate and

piling sucked nuts

on a saucer for later

 

she popped her top set in

and stuffed her mouth

with a hazelnut handful

at the very moment her idol

sprung from a clump of floribunda

 

she snorted with laughter,

then could not breathe

and could not swallow

 

despite coughing and hacking

there was no dislodging

the hazelnut blockage

 

(no one had shown her the Heimlich Manoeuvre)

 

as Monty preached the merits of mulching, 

“a thick blanket of manure makes for nutritious conditioning” 

Sadie gasped her last,

and slid down the sofa,

beginning her slow dissolve

into oneness with Walter

and the late-lamented Chihuahua

Conchita