She found it for the best to have about her an umbrella
when riding a comets tail chasing the solar winds
you see an umbrella when opened afforded her a safer, more
predictable landing upon those rare orbs where gravity held sway
“I’ve seen more life in a tramps vest than within this wretched infinite space and time. It is thus I feel compelled to alight…to touch down…to savour the clatter and hustle of people and places where dualism prompts the delicious activities of mind and body,” so said this extraneous mischief maker
High up upon the windswept granite moor behind bolted
tavern doors in a land where sheep outnumbered populous
where goats and ponies had long since dislodged wolves and wild cats
where erratic ‘love-hate’ weather was the only real beast of prey
she, now in serving wench mode dished out porter and strong ale
to a motley crew of miscreants and run ragged clergy alike, all
topping up their already ‘full to the gunnels’ grotesque beer bellies
That the clientele of dubious morals and manners remained
‘after hours’ was to bear witness to her songs both bawdy and blasphemous
lewd and crude, no stone left unturned, fabled far and wide
Later though, when rip roaring volatility gave way to sleepy heads
resting on oak table tops in an ‘almost silence’ of snoring, farting
the occasional ‘best swallow sharpish’ belch also, she would call time
send the whole horde away to their beds, lovers and swine
In her heart of hearts she knew it was only a matter of time before
her one-armed centurion arrived from a beaten and battered Gaul
out of his epoch and into hers before the cockerel’s first crow, naturally
The pair once had been ‘intimate’ back in the days
when a rising Rome still saluted those about to die
“What on heavens earth are you doing in this pig sty of a place girl?”

“Playing…or perhaps I should say about to play tricks with a counterfeit Kings shilling as is my current want…it’ll wind up the locals when I slip it in their drinks and they shit themselves at the very thought the Press Gang are about”
“Ah the threat of a watery grave…how very cruel of you…long time no see”
“Why did you seek me out?”
“Surely you always knew that one day I would want my arm back…so attached to it as I was!”
“True yet was it not you who once said you’d give your right arm to have me…a fair price to pay”
“Changed my mind”
“Too late…you had me!”
“What say you give back my arm and I give you my heart?”
“Why should I?”
To a one time more or less tamed shrew to be taken for a ride
by a two-timing centurion who’s notoriety with the ladies went before
him demanded that the ‘pre the event’ proffered appendage be hers
so while he slept within the legionary encampment following the
Battle of Cissa she seized the opportunity even thieving his own much
cherished Gladius for the cut before taking flight beyond the aurora borealis
“Profess true love and I might just acquiesce…beseech, threaten or woo and you have no chance…think on it for now I sleep”
While the temporal one was in slumber
an old soldier, her umbrella in his solitary fist
made haste for a distant horizon where all
was becalmed, a place free from solar winds


27 thoughts on “A FAIR TRADE?

  1. I got here and I managed to log in too….. The way it has been raining in Rome I shoulda brought an umbrella. Great post xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Worth the hassle to tell you that,

    1. Raining in Rome indeed! We have spent time in Canterbury today taking coffee in the garden of a French owned café wearing just flimsy cloths so very, very hot is it! I’m so hot I frankly don’t know what to do now she’s given up on the ice packs…God I’m melting here

      1. Forgot to mention…their calling it ‘The Golden Age of Indian Summers’! Even now as I sit in the lounge in just dubious underpants and a knotted handkerchief upon my head I am boiling alive and praying for rain and cold…still you both enjoy yourselves!

    2. Look, Milord , do NOT rub it in. Indeed it rained for two days in Rome. HUH.I keep thinking of that sone..everywhere you go, alwasy take the weather with you. Seems I have…. x

      1. It’s so hot here we have a plague of locust…dashed good thing I’m an atheist really…still it saves on collecting the autumn leaves now that they’ve scoffed the lot…Farage blames this event on the French though as most of the locust were wearing beret’s!

    1. Young Marissa the thing about the light bulbs is 100% true…my first wife can verify my inadequacies in the electrical department…also the fact that I thought screws were hammered in like nails are – I had, until that point never seen a screwdriver in my life (being an only child my mother kept me away from all things remotely ‘blue collar’ – that’s true as well!

  2. I love the beginning, and this piece stands out to me also –

    “In her heart of hearts she knew it was only a matter of time before
    her one-armed centurion arrived from a beaten and battered Gaul
    out of his epoch and into hers before the cockerel’s first crow, naturally”

    – but in honesty, it’s all a great, rollocking read Mike, and the lack of commas is perfect, some writing works all the better without them I find. I’m stealing the lot and posting it upon my Cloud right now *nods a great deal*.

    – sonmi – a one time more or less tamed shrew upon the Cloud

    1. The lack of comma’s generally means it is one my wife didn’t proof read…both son (in particular; he’s colour blind as well) and I are in the dyslexic range…I even managed to fail O Level English first time around! Glad it worked for you though!

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