The Ukulele Lady (re-strung)

In Burnley.
In the county of Lancashire.
In the country of England.

It’s a wet, Friday afternoon.
There’s an October slate sky,
and the car park is full.

Kerbed on a backstreet,
sits the ukulele lady.
Applying red lipstick,
a cadet hat,
for the lost boys in the room.

Once a month here,
she gives just one hour.
to these half-swallowed memories,
in their final chorus’s of life.

As she enters the lounge,
of the Beaumont Residential Home.
Stewed fruit,
dribbling mouths,
and thoseTV quizzes,
smother her.

In towns such as,
Manchester,
Oldham,
and Bolton.
These men’s daughters and sons,
drink to forget their health.

But, they are all here today.
The old.

Johnny come lonely.
George, Brian, Frank.
Gerald, dizzy Danny,
and homesick Mohammad.

All except knowing Norman.
Where has Norman gone?

He is her little man,
in that moth eaten cap.
Norman knows all the words.
The writers, crooners, and tunes.

Never mind though.
It’s Showtime!
She gives them all a wink,
the ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’,
and ‘It’s Only A Paper Moon’.

They clap and hum.
Out of sight and out of mind,
out of luck and out of time.

The streetlights flicker mustard.

Later, in the staff room,
she sings an Oasis tune.
Tugs hard on the strings,
splits a fingernail.

And all the girls scream along,
Then Sally says that Norman’s dead,
good riddance to him,
the weekend is now.

The ukulele lady,
can’t fight back the tears.
The last breath here,
never takes a bow.

In Burnley.
In the county of Lancashire.
In the country of England.