Interrogation 1977 Poem by Terry Collett

I get home
from work
and he's there:
who have you
seen today
and what do they say
and have those guys
at the office
been eyeing
you over?

It's like
an interrogation
she said to me.

What did
you say?
I said.

I told him
I keep myself
to myself
I don't know if men
are eyeing me.

But he doesn't
believe me
and goes on and on
until I break down
and cry.

I can't stand it
much longer
she said.

Want me
to have word
with him?
I said.

Oh no
then he'll think
you have been
with me
or are having
an affair with me
and he'll have ago
at us both
she said.

I don't fear men
who pain women
I said.

But you know him
she said
he's not the sort
to reason with.

She cried
and walked off
back to the office.

Her old man
was a jerk
the kind of guy
who got a big kick
out of making
women cry.

I don't know
if guys eyed her
or fancied her
or if she encouraged
them or not.

I didn't work
in the office.

I worked
on the work floor
with the regular guys
who read the sports page
and the page where
some dame was pictured there
half dressed
posing seductively
who eyed the young dames
from the office
who came down to use
the drinks machine.

But she never
came down
for that operation
so I don't know
if that came in
as part of the interrogation.