I Ask You
Why don’t you get yourself a decent boyfriend,
I said,
instead of all these yobbos
with nails in their noses?
They’re not nails,
she said,
and anyway, Dad,
I could bring Sir Galahad home,
and you’d take against him.
Try me,
I said.
So OK,
Saturday night
she turns up with this bloke.
Rusty iron suit,
hair down to his elbows,
grail stains all over his moustache,
and a strong smell of horse.
I ask you.