The ‘Elephant man’

The ‘Elephant man’

‘Do you consider your writing to be beautiful?’

The guy said,

Leaning over my shoulder

To read the text on the screen

Even though my back was turned

Facing away from his table

Trying, in my own way

To remain inconspicuous

Although in truth,

I was using a laptop in a cafe,

If I didn’t want to attract the curious

I should have stayed at home.

His breath smelled of coffee and avocado

With a hint of yesterday’s skinful

Creeping in around the edges,

Just a young guy

With too many tattoos copied

From a video of Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson

But he was not an ‘Islander’

Unless the ‘Isle of Dogs’ counts

As an exotic location

Perhaps he was an extra

In a Guy Ritchie film

‘It seems to me,’ he exhaled

Heavily

A studied pose,

Probably one he practiced

In front of a mirror

Whilst shaving

With one of those

Itty bitty beard trimmers

Bought especially

For the pencil-thin moustache

And goatee,

Like he was weighing

Up the impact of his words

As if it actually mattered

What I thought of his opinion,

It did matter when my wife gave hers

Even though I felt the pain of it

For just a little while

Giving her a sharp rebuke

For interrupting the flow

Telling her she was wrong

But she was right

As often as not

Which always lead to

The appropriate modification

And her warm smile

Of satisfaction on re-reading.

‘I guess it can be, sometimes.’

I replied, eventually

‘When it needs to be’

‘Oh...right...I see and what then

This isn’t meant to be beautiful?’

I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic

But the truth of it was

‘No...it’s meant to be authentic, earthy.’

Gosh his breath was bad

As he blew out through his mouth

‘Oh right...but it still has a sort

Of neat feel to it...not beautiful exactly,

But kinda real sounding.’

I think he just complimented me

‘Thank you.’ I replied, smiling

‘I guess you made my day.’

‘Did I?’

His face lit up like a puppy dog

All wide brown eyes

Shiny nose and orthodontic teeth

He had spinach caught

Right upfront

‘Yes you did...my friend

But truth is if you are the only one

Who likes it, then I’m a dipstick

So I hope other people

See it the way that you do.’

I didn’t mention my wife

As she was my business

But if she liked it

Then I really was on the money,

For him, I was just an anecdote

Over a couple of bottles of Peroni

To wash down

The Peri-Peri chicken in Nandos

On the Mile End Road

Just a stone’s throw

From the Royal London Hospital

Where to this day

The skeleton of John Merrick

Is kept on display.

What were they thinking about?

Daily massive breaks into the weekend for Saturday the 24th of July.

Simple my heart

The complexity of

Compartmentalisation

Diverting attention away

From blood flow

The richly divine

Nature of breathing

The weft of capillaries

Following a nature trail

That leads to a transfer

Of natural gifts

Leaving a slurry of

Carbon-neutral pigment

To slosh around

Like watercolours

Painting treetops

Swaying in the breeze

Too late the bypass

Motorways never

Reduce the traffic

Dreadful machines

Never do stop beeping

Sorry are the drivers

Of necessary change

Never knowingly in soul charge

Of the machinery

Always taking the blame

For being designated

To take a fall

Ignorance is never bliss

But some people like surprises

When the time comes

Accidents do happen

Pumps break down

Fuel lines leak

Compartments are only as good

As the valves that need replacing

With every full service

Guaranteed

To return everything back

To its original

Factory setting

Should you choose to act

On the advice, you have been given.