'In Burma, did you kill a man?'
my brothers want to ask instead its,
'Did they really eat your dog?'
I smile - this story's mine as well-
from childhood years spent awe-struck
in his arms

Lights, cameras, action! Here he goes,
Wogan sharp, two boys become two hundred,
he misses a bit but wings it - phew -
and even - 'Terry, do we have the time? -
did you hear about the meteor I found?
No? Here goes...'

Outside, sipping three pound white -
the Petit Chablis' his of course -
his wife and daughter weed and laugh,
it's getting dark, they better go, my grandma gulps the
strong sea air -
back inside she's short of breath.

We've found his cap, her bag, they're set,
he kisses me and flirts, I laugh
and softly stroke his back -
brushing the lump that makes me retch -
'If I were your fella...'
he stumbles, gasps,
and grasps my hand too tightly
as I lead him to the car


Amy Mason