Thursday, June 28, 2007

Blowjob Jill


is the only person in the pub
besides the barman
and me.
She is something
of a legend.

Corpulent to the point
of side-show freak,
with an ass like a spacehopper
stuffed with leather gloves;
face the colour & texture
of a minor asteroid;
and not-quite-all-there either,
according to reports –
she was once seen in town
wearing a denim jacket
with a hanger still inside.
But there weren't many lads I knew
who hadn’t taken her
to the bandstand
a back alley
or the Multi-Storey on Osbourne Street.
The rumour was
she gave the best blow-job in town,
that she could suck
the red paint
off a fire extinguisher.

I go over with my pint,
a gin and tonic for her,
and sit down opposite.
Up close, her eyes
are actually
almond-shaped, hazel
and rather lovely.

She smiles, sighs, and asks
where we are going to go
for the inevitable.
But I just ask her why she is
the way she is.
How can she have so little
self-respect?


She tells me she never
has to buy a drink for herself.
She is more sought-after,
more popular
for at least a short time
than the prettiest girls
in all the pubs.
“And the moment they come in my mouth”,
she says, “I know they'll
always compare every other girl
to me, and it'll never be as good.
That’s power.”

But by then her voice
has dropped to a whisper
and her eyes
are everywhere else.




Miles J Bell

No comments: