Pressed between the corduroy calves of Man sniffling through a box of LP’s,
A golden labrador.
Dope eyed, old and creamy he lies out the Saturday boot sale
strumming ears tickled by chords of grass
while a sticky kid’s paw pats him
cautiously rifling his suede boned nose and liquorice lips.
Man thumbs past Jim Reeves and Classics for Pleasure a Readers Digest box set of
WWII songs, truffling for rare jazz or Jap white labels.
Between the boxes swanking past
a flat faced mutt locked against buttoned leggings thin straps and orange ankles.
He snaps his displeasure at the ‘lab’ who sniffs on
caressed by the corduroy shuffling Man
‘Piss off’ the Lab mouthes safely.
He loves this just still summer heat.
The trickle of greasy sneakers, suedes and wet trainers, sandals, flip-flops
Grubby farts and mouth spills, nappy babies with milky mums and nylon grans,
Cheap stale bags with snotty tissues and chocolate
and turn-ups with cheesy crisp crumbs.
He loves man loves him loves here best. He loves this all.
Soon the best bit.
Bag of disks, deal done, they trot to bacon breakfast and queue at the cabin
Flat face trussed-under-heel to the orange ankles legging’s man’s friend
Shorts bare brick dust calves course with Mr Muscle.
“Prat.”
Flat face whines and drools
“Prat.”
Tea spoons planted in dish water brown stained
Seeped in sugar a sausage in bread
All for him.
Sucked down in a second.
Bliss.