Piggy Four Eyes


He brought me flowers this Sunday mid-morning.

I sat at the patio table browsing through the newspaper.
It was very quiet apart from the hum and buzz of insects.
My colourful and well stocked garden looked thirsty,
It gave up a bouquet of perfumes. I poured a second cup of tea.
The trees were still – no breeze. The sky a deep hazy blue.
Sunlight glinted off the open kitchen window,
I was momentarily blinded, the newspaper slid to the floor.
As I bent to retrieve it, my chair scraped the patio.
Annoyingly, a little of my tea slopped onto my foot.

Sitting upright with scrumpled paper in one hand, tea in the other,
I was shocked to see, on the table, a large bouquet of flowers,
Wrapped in cellophane and standing in a terracotta vase.
Amidst the powerful combination of heavy fragrances
It was still impossible not to smell his aftershave.
Cheap, tacky, cloying, sickly-sweet, overpowering ……..
Then there was the smell of his aftershave!
I could now spot his glistening bald head over the bouquet,
Always did remind me of one cheek of a fat man’s bum.

Thank you for small mercies – I couldn’t see his sweaty face.
Unshaven, piggy eyes behind bottle lens glasses, piggy snout,
A mouth like a puppy dog’s arse, in a permanent whistling shape,
Hiding half a dozen crooked and misplaced teeth.
OK – no one can help their make-up – and beneath
His ugly exterior, was an even uglier excuse for a man.
Does every pervert speak in the same droolingly nasal tones,
Accentuating words that are meant to be subliminal?

Four weeks ago I walked out of my job, I was this freak’s PA.
Three months of being eye-undressed
Taking dictation directed to my breasts.
Droolingly nasal innuendoes and silent whistles.
A man, (a man?), smaller than me, I am five five, (in heels).
I walked out when he dropped his pen three times in ten minutes,
Purely to get a glimpse of what may be above the hem of my skirt.
I showed him, I was dressed commando – he fell into an asthma attack.

I walked out to the music of his laboured breathing,
He was trying to yell/shout/scream for an inhaler.
It was a desperate drooling whimper of a recently recued mongrel.
Passing the receptionist, I mentioned that piggy four eyes might need help.
Noise, traffic, sunlight, homely pollution – the real world.
I rode the crowded bus – commando style – three miles to home.
I didn’t need money. My Husband, (Bless Him, I still Love Him Soooo Much!!),
Died three years ago of some dreadful, obscure cancer.



A rare breed of successful artist – he left my needs well catered for,
As they say. Taking employment was a way of avoiding long term grief.
Well rooted grief, a lifetime’s worth, my lifetime.
Piggy four eyes droolingly, nasally said his visit and the flowers
Were in way of an apology, (how about a quickie while I’m here?).
On the grass in front of me was a wheel barrow, with a stiff bristled broom
Leaning against it. Earlier I’d been sweeping the lawn. (Who sweeps lawns??).
I nonchalantly walked over to it and picked up the broom.

This time in full, large size, unsexy knickers, underneath denim jeans.
I walked slowly back, around the table and vase of dead flowers
And poked the stiff bristles into his slimy face.
Told him to vacate my property forthwith, (maybe using an ‘f’ word).
I am 48 years old, built for comfort, as my hubby would have said
In private and when we were alone, in our world, in bed.
Piggy four eye’s whistle mouth stretched into his version of a grimace.
If before I swept him away with love/lust, this time I swept him away literally.

I buried his dead flowers upside down
So that they had no chance of growing upwards.

My tea was cold, so I went indoors and made another pot.
I unscrumpled my paper
And my life returned to lonely normal.
To the Hubby of my life – This is your uncommandoed wife –
I love and miss you so much.

You have me smiling ,laughing and crying with this one.


I miss reading you and others here .

Having a good time catching up,


Julie