Teatime at Guinness Outpost

My spelling checker flips to Rorschach mode.
‘Cremates’ was its suggestion for ‘cream teas’
when I typed ‘creamteas’. The ill this flip must bode
is the basis for my trembling as I ease
a first Guinness from the sideboard, let it chill
down to the temperature of the room
I pretend is British but comes from the bill
for heating that I swept with a new broom
into the fireplace where I store the wood.
I could not pay. When I told that to the gas
man, he said, ‘I did not think you would’.
Read and tremble at what comes to pass
when poets stoop to identicals to rhyme
and chat with spelling checkers till drinks time.

2 thoughts on “Teatime at Guinness Outpost

  1. Your last three three poems have been “delicious ” in different ways . Yes, you can dance. I still dance often by myself listening to Motown. The fifties and sock hops were so much fun. Warm wishes for 2016.

  2. Many thanks, Sandra, especially for your terpsichorean endorsement. You are right about Motown, the fifties, sock hops. Yes, indeed. I see that I have 149 poems containing the word ‘dance’.

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