Kind Of Drowned. Poem by Terry Collett

I knocked on the door
and Mrs Woolgar opened it
and stood there
in a white sort of blouse
and burgundy skirt.

She smiled:
hello Benny
has Henry gone
to football?
She asked.

Yes he said he was,
I replied.

Good come in,
she said.

So I went past her
at the door and she
closed the door
behind us.

I smelt the perfume
she had drowned
herself in
and stood by
the lounge door:
shall I go in?
I said.

Do you want to
go in?
She said softly.

I stood unsure
what to say:
I haven't brought
my swimwear
for swimming,
I said.

O never mind
you can come
another time to swim,
she said,
go in
we can talk.

So I entered the lounge
and sat on the big sofa
and she entered the room
and said:
would you like a drink?

Have you cola?
I asked.

Sure have,
she said,
and went
to a drink cabinet
and took out a cola
and poured it
in a glass
and handed it to me.

She poured herself
a gin and ice
and sat next to me.

I sipped the cola
and she sipped her gin.

How was school?
She said.

It was good,
I said.

How did Henry get on?
She asked.

He did all right,
I said.

She leaned in
close to me
so I could drink in
the perfume
which made me feel
sort of unwell.

I sipped my cola;
I could see her bosom
peeking over the top
of her white blouse.

I tried not to look,
but my eyes disobeyed
and gawked.

I looked at her
burgundy skirt;
it was soft and her
knees kind of stuck out
where the hem was.

I sipped my cola
and drowned
seeing Henry
wasn't around.