The gardener tends the pink roses
& dead-heads unwanted things too:
she isn't suprised by what she sees, greenfly, blackfly, snails and
then what she hears - from him
he lights a smoke in the small yard, it's the only place he can, no longer fumes in the house
she twirls her fingers in almost biting anticipation
not that she'd ever smoke again - provocative as it seems
he chastises her for the thoughts of it
and offer his hand in friendship - calls her 'old gal'
funny - she used to think of summersex and things that copulate in the sun
but now
as the cloud breaks
they chink coffee cups
and talk of vicarious people and living-friends
and if two plus two really does make fifty six
or four
and if Noah really did build the ark with three 'appence a foot
she impales a snail on a twig
and launches it into the greatbeyond
& his lop-sided smile and eye twinkle
warms her being - he says she's a murderer
& they tie noose-like laughter to wind chimes
the afternoon passes so quickly
Adding your comment:
You killed a poor snail! 
they are cute!
