Wednesday, 26 February 2014

an eighty sixth poem...'carry on carrington #5'

As David entered the dressing-room,
Cleverley’s new shell-suit
Reflected every
Single prism of sun-light.
David shielded his eyes.
And Phil, more out of
Habit than anything,
Did the same too.
‘Jesus’, said David,
‘It’s Joseph’s Technicolour
Scapegoat’.
Cleverley – who had been
Applying yet more
Brylcreem to his thousand
pound crew-cut, turned
And said: ‘Yes, it is I!’

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